


Cunning and Ambition - Book Two

by MinaAndChao



Series: Cunning and Ambition [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, M/M, Multi, Slytherin!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-09
Updated: 2011-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-24 10:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 62,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinaAndChao/pseuds/MinaAndChao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter is about to enter into his second year at Hogwarts.  There are things lurking in the dark and being a Slytherin isn't about to be a favourable experience for the Boy-Who-Lived.  A Slytherin!Harry AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Man's Land

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Graphic descriptions of child abuse. May be triggering

Harry Potter, almost twelve years old, was not an ordinary boy.  Not by any means.  In fact, Harry Potter was rather extraordinary.  He was a wizard.  Of course, his aunt and uncle, whom he lived with, didn’t like that he was a wizard.  They abhorred it.  Feared it.  In the time he had been back at Number Four Privet Drive, Harry had returned to his role of serving and whipping boy to the only family he had left.  He was supposed to have left after only a week, but slowly as the days slipped on and June ended, and the middle of July crept up upon him, Harry had given up on the chances of reconnecting with his friend Draco Malfoy.  His friend had likely forgotten him, as most people had.  Dismissed his differences as unimportant and logged his face away in the back of their mind as a memory. 

“Up!”  His Aunt Pentunia commanded on the other side of his bedroom door.  He heard her unlock the padlocks on his door and she smacked the door, hard. She had likely hit it with her wooden spoon as a final warning before the sound of her slippers retreated. 

Harry climbed off of his bed and looked around his dingy bedroom.  His only companion in the room was his snowy owl, Hedwig.  Even she was caged like him.  His Uncle Vernon had locked her into her cage. Harry was sure if he could have, Vernon would have done the same with him.  Harry stood up, stretching his arms towards the ceiling with a sigh and a yawn, before he pulled on a clean shirt that had once belonged to his cousin Dudley.  Dudley was the size of a small elephant, and all of his clothes hung off of Harry like a ghost. Harry's aunt and uncle refused to buy him his own clothing. 

Harry climbed down the stairs, leaping to avoid the last, bottom step which squeaked horribly and landed at the bottom of the stairs silently.  He made his way into the kitchen, where his aunt was pruning her indoor roses.  Harry silently made his way over to the stove.  A full packet of bacon was frying in the skillet along with half a loaf of bread that was toasting in the oven.  Harry went to work and beat the large mixing bowl full of eggs and milk vigorously before he poured them into an empty frying pan. He prodded at the eggs, scrambling them up, and laid out three plates.  Two of them were piled high with bacon, eggs, toast, beans and chips, and the last one was filled with sliced tomatoes, eggs and toast.  Harry laid the plates in their usual spots at the small, round table and poured his uncle a cup of coffee, before brewing English Breakfast for his aunt and pulling out orange juice for Dudley.

He washed the dishes silently while they ate, moving quickly whenever ordered for more toast, or more chips and bacon (which were being kept warm in the oven).  He washed and dried the dishes, but didn’t dare put them back into the cupboards, if he put even a single up in the wrong place it would be hell to pay.  

“You get one slice of toast, boy. Eat quickly!”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.” 

Harry quickly spread jam over his toast and ate it over the sink, ignoring the way his uncle snorted in disgust or the way Petunia’s lip curled.  He would rather have their disapproving looks than their lashes for touching the clean dishes with his sticky hands.  He watched while Dudley left to go over to his friend Piers Polkiss’ house.  Harry wondered what Dudley did there.  Perhaps terrorize the children closer to Piers’ house.  Uncle Vernon kissed Aunt Petunia on the cheek and lumbered out of the house to go to work.  Harry’s uncle worked at a very large company that made drills.  

Harry watched as they left, standing rather uselessly in the middle of the kitchen, unsure of what to do.  Finally his Aunt Petunia snapped at him to stop gawking and go outside and tend to the garden.  Harry bustled outside, where the screen door was slammed shut behind him.  He set to work quickly.  Harry mowed the lawn, trimmed the hedges, weeded the garden, washed down the stones, re-potted the rose bushes (without gloves, mind you, thorns pricked terribly), added mulch to the flower beds, washed down the park, and washed Petunia’s car.  By the time Harry staggered his way in at half past one he was utterly exhausted.  He was aching all over and dripping with sweat. 

“Look at this!  You’ve tracked mud all over the tile! Take off those shoes and put them outside now,” Petunia barked. Harry did as he was told. “Go wash up, you stink terribly.  Once you’re done you’re going to clean up the mess you’ve made.”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.”  Harry trudged up the stairs towards the second floor with heavily hunched shoulders. 

He washed up quickly and changed his clothing.  Once that was done he began to clean the inside of the house.  The only room he was never to touch was the telly room.  Both of the glass doors leading into said room were shut firmly and through the panes Harry could see his aunt sitting on the sofa watching her shows.  Harry dragged the mats outside and whipped them with the old rug beater his aunt kept in the cupboard by the door.  He left them hanging on the line in the back to air while he swept out the kitchen, hallways, and front hall.  He paused outside of the small cupboard under the stairs where all of his school things were locked up.  Oh how Harry wished he could ‘ _alohamora’_  the lock and gather his things and run away.  

It was strange, looking at it now.  How tiny it seemed.  Harry wondered, as he stared at the latched door.  How he had spent eleven years of his life secluded in such a small, cramped place.  Harry had liked the cupboard, however.  It was his solace from the Dursley’s.  There were times, even now, when Harry wished to crawl inside the space, shut the door and disappear.  Be forgotten.  

“Quicker!”

Harry scrambled quick as he could into the kitchen.  Petunia was standing there, and beside her slippered feet was a pail filled with steaming, bubble-infested water, and a brush.  She likely had taken a break from her shows to order him about.  Harry nodded to her wordlessly, his eyes plastered to the floor in subservience. He didn’t dare look at her face when she was in such a mood.  She made a quiet ‘ _hmph_ ’ noise and rounded on her heels to stalk out of the room.  When she closed the door to the telly room it was with a force that shook the walls.  

Harry dragged the heavy bucket to the furthest corner of the room before crossing to the cupboard under the sink and pulled out a think, long rag.  He returned to the corner and laid out the rag in a small rectangle before kneeling on it.  It did nothing to cushion his knees from the hard floor and it would do nothing to protect his pants or his skin from the hot water and the chemicals within the bucket, rather the swatch of fabric dried the floor as he scooted along on his knees.  

Dunking his brush into the water, Harry clenched his teeth at the shock of the hot water.  He pulled the brush out and let it drip into the water before leaning forward so he could scrub hard at the tile.  Once he finished a square in front of him, Harry nudged the pail forward with the top of his head, knowing that if he used a hand he would drip over the tile, or waste time.  He pulled the rag forward in a sort of half circle with his knees before moving onto the next patch of floor.  

This continued for well over an hour, almost into two.  Harry worked his way through the kitchen methodically, into the hallway, down the hallway, around the base of the stairs and finally into the front hall.  He stood, giving a tiny wince as his back protested when he moved too fast.  His shoulders and stomach muscles ached terribly and he poured the dirty water down the gutter out front.  He stored everything in the proper place before retrieving the rugs for the front hall, back door, and hallway from the back yard and laid them down carefully. 

Harry was running his reddened, cracked hands under cold water when Dudley thundered into the house and rampaged his way into the telly room to watch a movie with Piers.  Petunia entered the kitchen and observed his work.  She snapped out a few places he had missed before ordering him up to his room.  Harry scrambled up the stairs and shut his door just in time to hear his uncle return home.  

He listened to the family bustle about below him as he stretched out on his bed.  He turned his eyes to the calendar on his wall and smiled at the red circle around July 31st.  His birthday was coming up soon.  Just a little while longer...  

“Boy!” 

Harry scrambled up on his bed and sat stalk-straight.  His uncle pushed the door open and stood in the frame, occupying it with his large size.  Vernon stared at him from under his hard, large eyebrows with his beady, sharp eyes and Harry kept his eyes dutifully on the floor.  

“We are going out to eat.  You are to remain on that bed until we return.  You are to be quiet and as non-existent as possible.  Clear?”

Harry nodded his head before jerking forward on the bed when he was cuffed hard on the back of the neck.  He didn’t raise a hand to rub at the pain or cry out.  “Yes, Uncle Vernon.”

The walrus-like man left the room.  Harry stretched back out on the bed as he listened to two padlocks slide into place.  The sound of retreating footsteps resounded in the hall before long he heard the front door open and close.  Harry rolled off of the bed and moved to his wardrobe.  He braced his weight against it and pushed as hard as he could, bearing his weight down on his feet.  Finally the large mess of wood scraped along the wood floor, one inch, then two.  Harry slid to his knees and pulled up the loose floorboard with a smile.  

The time he had spent alone in the house had given him time to explore his room.  He had found the loose floorboard one afternoon when everyone had gone to the cinema.  Not long after, during the one time during the night when his door was unlocked, Harry would fill the pockets of his sleep trousers with things he had stashed in the bathroom behind the toilet tank.  It usually didn’t add up to much - a few crackers or some sweets.  However, once when his Aunt Petunia had gone to the Post Office she had left his door unlocked by accident and Harry had managed to unlock the cupboard under the stairs and sneak out one of his Hogwarts books.  Harry hadn’t counted his luck when he had snatched up the book - Magical Drafts and Potions - one of the textbooks to his favourite class. 

Harry had enjoyed Potions thanks to Professor Snape.  He had pushed Harry to learn, did nothing to favour him, and taught him tricks to remember things.  If there was any class Harry hadn’t wanted to fall behind on during the summer, it was Potions.  He had disappointed Professor Snape once and had regretted it terribly. 

Pulling the book out and laying it on the bed, Harry stuck his arm into the hiding place, looking for something to eat.  He straightened up with his hand around a package of crisps and an oat bar.  Replacing the floorboard, Harry returned to his bed.  He ate the crisps first, they were plain, the way he preferred them.  He wiped his hands off on the bed spread, making sure to get rid of all the oil and salt so he wouldn’t damage the book.  Harry kicked back and started reading. 

Harry had been so engrossed with reading the properties of various more advanced potions in the books - he hoped they would learn more - that he hadn’t paid attention to the passage of time.  Or heard the front door open and close.  It was only when the door to his room was opened by his uncle that Harry had realized too late.  

Vernon roared with anger.  Harry scrambled back in the bed, clutching to the book like a lifeline.  His ankle was seized hard and he was pulled out of bed. He landed on the floor with a crack, air leaving him in a rush.  He choked, lying on the floor, stunned and staring up at the ceiling.  

“Using that junk to sneak around our house?!”

Harry rolled onto his side and pushed himself up with his shaking arms. He fell onto his side when Vernon advanced and he rose his hands to block his head.  “No! Uncle Vernon, no!”  Unfortunately, the truth wasn’t much better. 

“Shows me how stupid I was to trust a freak like you alone in my house.  We give you food.  We give you shelter and this is how you repay us!?”

Harry opened his mouth to say something.  His head was throbbing and his spine ached.  He was fairly certain that nothing was broken from his impact but it hurt to move.  “Uncle Vernon - sir - please!” 

“I’ve had quite enough of that jabber!” 

The book was yanked from Harry’s gasp and he noticed Vernon take heed of the title.  The man spat on the book and brandished it around in his great fist.  Harry cowered, pulling himself into a fetal position.  Anything in Vernon’s grasp could be used as a weapon.  “See how your magic helps you now, boy.”

Harry rose his arms to block the blows.  

It didn’t help. 

Several hours - or days, he couldn’t be sure – later, Harry woke up on the floor of his bedroom.  His glasses were cracked in one lens and bent horribly out of shape.  He reached a hand up and gingerly touched his face.  His cheek was swollen and probably purple.  His face was tacky and caked with blood.  He pushed himself into a sitting position and reached back.  His hair, notorious for standing on end - was matted down against his skull.  Harry made a displeased noise at the feel of the knots and mess of dried blood. 

He forced himself to his feet and wavered a moment as feeling rushed back into him with a low, throbbing ache.  He limp-dragged his way to his wardrobe and pulled off his blood-stained shirt.  His nose had bled profusely at some point all down his front.  He pulled on a fresh one, ignoring the way his joints popped in protest. 

Turning in place, Harry noticed a cup of water and two lumps of bread.  He eyed them curiously and made his way over.  Easing his way back onto the floor, Harry pulled up the glass and drank.  The water was stale and warm, but washed away the acrid taste in his mouth.  The bread was too hard to break.  It had been about a day.   He wondered if they left him there to die.  He snorted and then instantly regretted it as pain exploded through him. 

“Are you up yet?  I hear you moving!”

Harry groaned. Petunia’s voice was shrill.  He made his way to his feet and leaned heavily against the wardrobe.  “I’m up, Aunt Petunia.”  His words came out slightly slurred due to his swollen cheek. 

The door swung open and his aunt took stock of him.  “Into the toilet with you.  You reek of filth.  Shower and wash.  Then into the kitchen with you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Harry collected his clothing and made his way into the bathroom.  He closed the door but didn’t lock it.  After living with the Dursleys he had no expectation of privacy.  He examined his reflection.  The left side of his face had swelled up impressively and turned a rather deep shade of purple.  It was hot under his hand and Harry was sure something in his face had clotted.  Ice and a towel would do the trick.  When he removed his clothes familiar scars over his torso greeted him along with yellowing and green bruises and fresh dark blue, almost black ones.  Harry grunted and poked at one over his ribs in interest.  

He showered quickly but made sure to rid his face and hair of blood.  He dressed and brushed his teeth, ignoring the unpleasant throb of agony as he did so.  His mouth tasted disgusting.  He made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen.  It was empty of all but a bowl of runny porridge at the table and a towel loaded up with ice.  It was the familiar sight that had greeted him several times before, always after a severe beating.  Ice to dull the pain and swelling and a grey gloop to maintain his stomach.  

Harry lowered himself into the chair and pressed the ice against his face.  It ached before it numbed and he sighed as the throbbing lessened to a dull annoyance.  Slowly he fed himself the disgusting mess in the bowl.  He tried not to think as he sucked it down, ignoring the way it felt and tasted.  

“About time too! We’ve had to check on you to make sure you hadn’t died!”

Harry’s voice was bleak.  He didn’t raise his eyes from the table.  “I’m sorry, Aunt Petunia.”

“Too right you are!  You’re lucky we didn’t do away with all that nonsense.  Vernon had wanted to burn it, but I told him no, it could have exploded our house.”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.”

“You are to de-weed the garden, trim the hedge and clean the attic today.”

“Of course, Aunt Petunia. 

“And you will go to your room early.  We have guests for dinner.  You will lie there and make no noise.”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.  I will stay in my room making no noise and pretending I don’t exist.”

Petunia snatched away the bowl when he finished with it and took the towel when he lowered it from his face.  She spread her hands against his cheek, pressing in painfully.  Harry didn’t move.  Something inside his cheek shifted unpleasantly and it was followed by a hot, sharp pain before the taste of metal slid down Harry’s throat.  She had burst the clot in his face.    
“After you work you will get more ice.  You can’t walk around the house looking more ghastly than usual.”

“Thank you, Aunt Petunia.”

“Now go work.”

Harry worked diligently and quietly.  He cleared the weeds from the garden and trimmed the hedges neat and tidy.  Afterwards he stood on the newspaper in the kitchen and held the ice to his rapidly de-swelling face as the blood drained from it and did his best to ignore the sharp pains.  He moved to the attic and re-arranged boxes.  When he was sure no one was looking, he took a moment to play with some of Dudley’s old action figures before packing them away in old boxes. 

As he worked, Harry thought of the house-elves at Malfoy Manor.  He wondered if they were treated so terribly.  As he opened a box filled with pictures of smiling faces, Harry sat back and studied them.  He wondered if Hogwarts had all just been a cruel dream.  He wondered if he would ever go back, or if they would show up at his door telling him they had made a mistake and he was to remain with the Dursleys forever.  

As he cleared away cobwebs and dust Harry thought of Draco.  He thought of the luxurious beds of the Manor.  Of a pleasant sleep and a full belly.  He thought of Narcissa and her emotions hidden behind her mask.  He thought of her fleeting, warm hugs.  He thought of Pansy and her gobstones.  Of chocolate frogs.  

By the time Harry returned to his room he was tired and saddened.  He laid in bed listening to the laughter below him.  To the sound of utensils on plates.  He closed his eyes and thought of the feasts in the Great Hall.  Of ice cold pumpkin juice and meat pies.  He thought about the pancakes with strawberries he had at Malfoy Manor.  

Draco had forgotten about him. 

Harry pushed away the pain in his chest as best he could.  No one had written him.  Not a single letter by owl or by post.  He knew that Slytherin House had a reputation of being cold, but he had found companionship in Draco and Pansy and even his teacher Snape.  In the end, though, they had left him alone. 

His birthday was nine days away. Surely his Hogwarts letter would be arriving soon.  Perhaps with Hagrid again.  Harry hoped for it to be true.  For the large half-giant to swoop in with his pink umbrella and rescue him.  To take him away from this place so he could live forever happily in the dungeons below the Black Lake.  

Harry drifted off to sleep with giants, fish, and snakes in his head.  He dreamed of feasts and wands and friends. 

~*~

Three days later found Harry loading the washing into the machine.  He enjoyed laundry.  Something about the simplicity of it made him feel calm.  The past three days had been uneventful, if spartan.  He had spent most of them cleaning or with Mrs. Figg, whose house smelled of cabbage and who had far too many cats, or in his room.  One morning when crossing to stay with Mrs. Figg, Harry had sworn he had seen an owl, but the next second he looked, it was gone. 

He missed Hogwarts so much it was like a constant, burning ache inside of him.  However, he buried it under the constant need to do housework and the notion that if everything wasn’t perfect he’d be seeing the wrong side of a belt.  It was a motivational threat that kept him moving through the house, constantly working ahead of schedule and doing things without being asked. 

He picked up the second load of laundry of the day and moved to the backyard to hang the sheets and pillowcases he had just pulled from the washer to dry.  As he worked, Harry enjoyed the relatively cool summer day and the strong breeze.  He wanted to be diligent so the fear bubbling inside of him that this was the calm before the storm would subside.  He had long learned to do work without being told, to always ask permission, and to fear the worst out of every situation.  It had kept him alive thus far.  

Returning to the house, Harry paused in the bathroom to use it and to wash his hands.  He examined his face in the mirror. His cheek was not completely healed, but it was better. There was still a stain of darkness over his skin and around his eye that made him look like he had gotten into a row.  He’d grin at looks on the street and quietly mutter “you should see the other guy”.  It gave him a wide berth and eventually people stopped staring.  

The house smelled of roast as he stepped back into the hallway, and Harry’s stomach growled at the idea of it.  If he was lucky he’d get scraps.  As Harry gathered up the last load to put into the machine once the current one finished, he mused on the idea of his treatment.  It was cruel and deplorable, yes.  The treated him like a slave.  Yet, there was a strange comfort to the repetition of the tasks.  He had grown to love the solitude and the pride of a job well done.  It was true he didn’t enjoy the beatings and the work was hard, but in some strange way, Harry felt it gave him character. 

He wasn’t scrambling for more, of course, but they  _were_  his only family and that had to mean something, right?

The front door opened and shut.  His uncle was home.  He heard his aunt rush to greet him.  He would he seated in the telly room with a scotch and his paper in less than a minute.  If there was one thing the Dursleys liked, it was structure.  They feared change more than any other people Harry had met.  

“Boy! Make me a snack!”

Harry abandoned his post in the laundry room and moved to the kitchen.  He turned on the kettle and pulled out a pot noodle before pouring the boiling water into the cup.  It was a Thursday, which meant that it was a pot noodle.  Every other day was toasties and cheese with tomato.  Harry paused outside of the telly room and knocked on the door. 

“Get in here.”

Harry moved inside and set the fork and cup down.  “Here you are, sir.”

Vernon waved his hand away dismissively and Harry scurried from the room without hesitation.  He returned to the laundry room and was leaning against the wall when the doorbell rang.  As far as he knew they weren’t expecting guests.  Harry made no move to answer the door and offend his aunt and uncle. 

The doorbell rang again. 

“Are you getting that, boy?”

“Yes, sir!”

Harry rushed to the door and opened it quickly.  He stepped out from behind it to tell the solicitor to go away - that they weren’t interested - when he froze at the sight of the person standing on the porch.

“Mrs. Malfoy.”

Narcissa’s mouth opened to correct Harry so he would use her first name but her rouged lips twisted up when she glanced at his face. Harry cleared his throat and shuffled in place.  He lowered his head and nervously toyed with his hair, trying to make it cover the large bruise on the left side of his face.  “I got into a fight.”

“With a troll?” Narcissa questioned, a dainty brow rising.

Harry opened his mouth before closing it again and profusely shook his head no.  “I... You shouldn’t be here.”

“Draco insisted. He said you weren’t receiving any of the letters he sent you.  Said you weren’t owling back.”

Draco had sent him letters?  Harry’s stomach twisted in a mixture of emotion at the thought.  The Dursleys must have thrown them away.  Ever since the Hogwarts Letter debacle the previous summer, Harry was forbidden to retrieve the post.  His heart weighed down with guilt at the fact he had been angry at Draco for not contacting him, when in actuality he had.  

“No, you don’t understand.” Harry’s voice was shaking, almost inaudible, and pleading.  “You  _can’t_  be here.”

“Are you alright, Harry?”

Harry glanced upwards fleetingly, before his eyes instantly plastered down to the floor.  In his brief glimpse he had seen Narcissa looking worried and Lucius looking perturbed.  “I’m sorry, I have to go.  I have work to do.” 

Harry wanted nothing more than to fling the door open and launch himself out of it, but the knowledge his uncle was only a room over, kept him from doing so.  He muttered another quick apology before closing the door.  He stared at it a long moment before turning away from it.  

“Who was it?!”

“Nobody, Uncle Vernon.  Some people selling magazines.”

“I hope you told them we weren’t interested.”

“Yes, sir. I did.”

There was an insistent knocking at the door and Harry froze.  He turned in place and stared at the door.  He felt like crying.  If he was caught... He took a step back from the door as another knock rapped on the glass, trembling.  

He could hear Vernon grumbling in the other room and the creaking of his easy chair as he attempted to pull himself out of it.  Harry swallowed thickly, eyes darting between the silhouetted figures in the frosted glass of the door and down the hallway to the telly room.  Then it came again, three, short, sharp knocks.  Harry’s body lurched towards the door and he cracked it open.  

Narcissa smiled down at him, her face open and indulgent.  “Come along, Harry dear.  Just step outside so we can chat.  Or invite us in for some tea.”  

Harry couldn’t breathe.  He was being pulled in a million different directions and had a thousand thoughts at once.  He opened his mouth to reply, shutting the door until it was barely open, hoping it would hide his shaking.  “I’m not allowed to have people over.”

“Surely that’s not true!  You must have company visit sometimes.”

But he didn’t.  Not ever.  Unless you counted that one time his Primary teacher for maths visited him and told Petunia and Vernon he had been found on the roof of the school.  Harry never thought he would ever eat again.  

“More solicitors, boy?  You must be more firm with them!”

Harry shuddered hard and emitted a quiet squeak as he was pushed away from the door by Vernon.  Harry cowered by the closet as Vernon opened the door and looked out upon Draco’s parents.  Luckily they had dressed in modest, fashionable, but Muggle dress.  Vernon sniffed. 

“We’re not interested in whatever it is you’re selling.  I’m not donating my hard earned money to any starving children's fund, or to help poor animals so you lot can sod off my property!”

Narcissa blinked and looked up at Vernon.  She peered at his face, which was flushed with exertion.  She shifted in place and peered back at Lucius.  The two traded a look before Narcissa looked back up at Vernon.  “We aren’t from any charity.  We’re parents of a boy your nephew goes to school with.”

Vernon turned an impressive shade of maroon and the vein in his forehead looked like it was about to burst.  “WE DON’T HAVE A NEPHEW AND WE DON’T WANT ANY OF  _YOUR KIND_  SKULKING AROUND HERE!”

Harry shrank back against the wall when the door slammed so hard he thought the glass would shatter.  He pushed himself along the wall with his hands, trying to inch as much difference between himself and his uncle as possible. 

“Did you make them come?”

“No, Uncle Vernon, I swear.”

“Did you use some of that funny business of yours to send messages to your freaky little friends?”

Harry’s mind was reeling.  His heart was hammering so hard he thought it would burst.  He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed as he slid down the wall into a ball on the floor.  His cheeks burned as tears dripped from his eyes and he stuttered out a plea, grabbing his head and pulling it against his raised knees to protect it as best he could.  A meaty hand grabbed him hard about the neck and yanked him up.  He yelped loudly and was throttled silent.  

The next thing Harry heard was a loud cry of ‘ _CONFRINGO_ ’ before the front door was blasted clean off its hinges and into splinters of wood and shards of glass that fell harmlessly to the floor rather than explode outwards.  Harry watched, eyes wide as Lucius advanced into the house, his hand wrapped in a firm grasp about his wand.  He was flanked on his right by Narcissa, brandishing her wand as if it was, and in this case it most definitely  _was_ , a deadly weapon.  Harry collapsed to the floor when the hand about his neck released him and he remained there, sprawled out, in shock.

“You can’t do that!  This is my house!  I won’t have any of that nonsense in here, you hear me!?”

“Silence,” Lucius’ voice was utterly calm and even.  His eyes, however, were anything but.  They were steely gray and stormy.  He sneered at Vernon.  “You are a disgusting excuse for anything, let alone a Muggle.”

Petunia, who had heard the commotion, came racing into the front hall and screeched, falling against Vernon protectively.  Narcissa swept over to Harry’s side and helped him stand.  She brushed off his clothes and smoothed down his hair. 

“Where are your things?”

Harry opened his mouth, before closing it.  His eyes darted to Vernon and Petunia.  Then he looked at the floor. 

“It’s alright, dear.  Tell me, we’ll get your things and then we’ll go.”

Not trusting his voice, Harry pointed.  He watched as Narcissa opened the lock on the cupboard under the stairs and with a wordless incantation and a quiet pop, Harry was sure it was empty.  She stood in front of the small space before gently motioning Harry over.  Harry advanced on shaking legs.

Narcissa wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders before dropping it when Harry tensed.  “Is this the cupboard Draco told me about?  The one you had stayed in?” 

Harry nodded slowly and managed a hoarse “yes” before falling silent.  Narcissa nodded her head before sweeping back into the front hall.  

“You there, the whale,” Narcissa addressed, levelling her wand at Vernon.  “Come.”

“I will not!” 

“I don’t wish to do this by force, but I will if I must.”

Vernon shook Petunia off of him and rose his fists as if to fight.  Lucius rolled his eyes and slashed with his wand.  “Confundus!”

Vernon’s eyes glazed over and within moments he was trailing Narcissa, who was gently coaxing his befuddled mind down the hall.  After a bit of prodding and a snort of amusement from Narcissa, they had managed to squeeze Vernon’s great mass into the space under the stairs and she swung the door shut and latched it happily.  

“Wonderful, now that that’s dealt with.  Let’s get you changed.”

“His other clothes were stolen!”  Petuina squawked.  “There was no way he would have afforded them.  I did away with them.”

“I bought them, you stupid woman!”  Narcissa frowned at Petunia.  “Where did you place them?”

“The garage.  They are to be taken out with the garbage.”

With another wand wave a suitable outfit was draped over Narcissa’s arm and she turned to Harry.  “Why don’t you show me to your bedroom?”

Harry shamefully led Narcissa up the stairs and pushed open the door to his bedroom with a flushed face.  She examined it.  “It’s very... clean.”  Harry hung his head.  Narcissa freed Hedwig and Harry watched with delight as the snowy owl soared out the window.  “Now, why don’t you put on some of your nice clothes. 

Harry took the bundle into his arms and watched Narcissa with wide eyes.  She turned her back and Harry changed as quickly as he could.  Finally he tapped her lightly on the shoulder, still not feeling up to words and she smiled when she looked at him.  With a quick ‘reparo’ his glasses were mended.  

“Lovely, now, where is that pendant Draco gave you for Christmas.  It’s how we found you, you see.  This house is protected by some pretty powerful wards, luckily the familial magic on the necklace allowed us to find you.  It’s a safety feature.”

Harry removed the floorboard in place and pulled the locket out.  He held it up to Narcissa who took it wordlessly and hung it about his neck. It was strange, but the weight about his neck was comfortable, and Harry felt more joyful almost instantly. He followed Narcissa down the stairs and she took his arm.  Lucius took his other arm.  And with a quiet noise the world went inside out and upside down and Privet Drive was gone.


	2. Birthday Wishes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: References to graphic child abuse

When Harry and the elder Malfoys appeared in Malfoy Manor, they were immediately set upon by Draco.  At first the blonde demanded details about how Harry was and what his relatives were like, but once he spotted the other boy he took a moment to bask in the fact that he had been  _right_ , dammit, and everyone should listen to him more often.

And then he noticed the ugly bruise on Harry’s face, and the delicate way he held himself, and those thoughts went out the window.  Instead a strange mixture of anger and guilt rose in him.  Fury at those horrible, awful Muggles choked him, as well as to all the blockades he’d faced in order to have someone look in on the other boy.  Guilt because he had not done it fast enough.

Draco had to swallow against the emotions, and in the time it took him, Harry had gone from perking up to withdrawing even more than he had before, as though afraid his invitation had dried up in the time they had been apart.

Wanting to soothe both him and his own guilt, Draco raised a hand towards Harry, but stilled it when the other boy tensed up.  Instead he forced a huge, friendly smile on his face and simply said, “It’s about time you got here.  You know how impatient I am.”

That broke Harry out of his fearful state somewhat, and he smiled back, the expression weak and paper-thin, but true.  “Yeah,” he agreed, and it wasn’t the most eloquent reply ever, but it didn’t have to be.  The relief in his eyes said more than he ever could.

“Let’s get you set up in your rooms, then.”  Draco said, taking charge while Harry was still off balance, probably not even aware he was doing so.  “And then we can do something quiet until dinner.  I wore myself out waiting for you, you know.”

“Alright,” Harry said, and he trailed after Draco as they headed up the stairs.  Below them, Narcissa arched a delicate eyebrow at Lucius, her expression flitting between her remaining anger at those awful things that called themselves human beings, and some sort of primitive contentment that Harry was now in their home, like a dragon with her clutch of eggs.  Lucius, on the other hand, was utterly blank, but his eyes sparked with frustrated anger, and Narcissa remembered that he had not had so much of an outlet for his anger, besides the door and casting the Confundus Charm.  

Leaving him to deal with his emotions by himself, Narcissa crept quietly up the stairs after the boys, not sure if leaving them alone was the smart choice.  As she approached the guest...No, Harry’s room, she could hear Draco chattering away excitedly, but not the smaller boy’s voice.  Using the skills she’d accumulated both as a Dark witch and a mother, she cracked the door open silently and peered in.

“So, clearly the Cannons have no chance at all, but that doesn’t stop their fans at all.  Loons, the lot of them.  And, really, who made the decision to have their official colour be that awful shade of orange?  It’s probably so that they can find their players when they lose control of their brooms.  The team to watch out for is the Holyhead Harpies.  Vicious, absolutely vicious.  They have a new coach, too.”  

Years of practice let Narcissa tune out her son’s commentary.  Instead she focused on Harry, expecting the boy to look cowed and overwhelmed.  Instead he was sitting on the bed, kicking his feet lightly against the side of it, thankfully in his socks, and simply watching Draco rave on.  In fact, he seemed comforted by it, like it was a constant reminder that he was  _here_  and not back with his relatives.

Feeling almost chastised, Naricissa backed out, closing the door behind her just as silently.   Draco clearly had Harry well in hand, whether he was aware of it or not.

Back in the room, Harry slumped back onto the bed, kicking lightly at his trunk until it rested at the foot so he could stretch out.   The soft mattress and sleek comforter felt amazing against his sore back.   His head lolled lazily towards Draco and his hands slid over the covers, taking in their texture.  Part of him was terrified that this was a dream, and that he was just about to wake up and have his heart broken.

Draco suddenly trailed off, staring at him in slight horror and confusion, and Harry realized he must have said that aloud.  He winced slightly.  The emotional turmoil of the day, mixed with the constant aching in his head had done terrible things to his ability to keep his thoughts to himself.

A scoff startled him, and his eyes jumped to Draco, who was regarding him with one arched brow.  “It’s never a dream if you think it is.”  He pointed out.  “If it was a dream it would seem perfectly normal and you wouldn’t even think about it.”

That was true.  Some of his nerves abated, and he managed a slightly bigger smile at Draco.  “You’re right.”

“I’m always right.”  Draco returned easily, before continuing his analysis on why every Quidditch team really had no idea what it was doing, and how if they’d just bring him on he could fix it.  The words acted as a comforting sort of background noise, and it wasn’t as if Draco really needed any input on the subject, so Harry let his eyes drift closed and relaxed, dosing for the first time since he’d left Hogwarts.

It seemed like a few minutes later when he heard Draco calling his name next.  “Harry, get up, would you!  It’s dinner time.”   The other boy refrained from touching him, thankfully, or Harry wasn’t sure he would have been able to control his actions.  More interestingly, he didn’t mention the act that he’d fallen asleep during his tirade, which made Harry wonder if that had been Draco’s intention in the first place, little sneak that he was.

Harry managed to get off of the wonderfully comfortable bed, and trailed behind Draco towards the dining room, still blinking some sleep from his eyes.  When they reached the table, Draco plopped down into his normal seat, but Harry hesitated.  He’d been welcome to eat with them when he was a guest, but doing so when he was some sort of rescue was a different story.  His Aunt’s words about Freaks not being welcome to eat with decent people echoed somewhere in the back of his mind, and he stalled.

The seat next to Draco pulled back in invitation, and he glanced at Narcissa in surprise.  But she wasn’t looking at him.   Her gaze was on Lucius, whose right hand gripped his wand, and the other gestured towards the chair.  “This will be your spot for the rest of the summer, young man.”

Startled, both by the welcoming and the form of address, Harry simply nodded and murmured his thanks, before settling down next to Draco, who rolled his eyes at his hesitation.  Harry tensed a bit at that, warmth beginning to bloom on his cheeks.  Thankfully, food appeared on their plates just then - some sort of roasted bird that Harry thought might be duck - and the exchange was quickly forgotten.  

It quickly became apparent that Harry had been given a much smaller portion of food than the others, and realized the House-elves must have known that he couldn’t handle more than that.  There was little hope in trying to conceal the fact, and attempting it would only draw more attention to it.  Instead he pretended he didn’t notice, and other than a few contemplative looks, the Malfoys were polite enough to follow suit.

Dinner ended soon enough, and the boys retreated to the library.  Their evening was spent in a similar manner the afternoon, though Draco’s ramblings changed topic to a series of books then had at the library that he felt were far superior to the ones Hogwarts assigned, while Harry perused an interesting looking potions text, not really paying attention to the words.

After a few hours, Draco claimed to be utterly exhausted over his terribly trying day, and went off to his room to sleep.   Harry, who had been beginning to droop, smiled at him in thanks.  The blonde arched an eyebrow like he had no idea what Harry was on about, but twin dustings of colour snuck their way onto his cheeks.

The next couple of days passed in much the same manner, though Draco’s attentiveness began to fade into his normal behavior.  On the third day, Harry woke early, completely unable to sleep in like Draco preferred.   He spent a while flipping through his potions book and starting on the essay Snape had assigned for homework.  Finally, the need to clean up overwhelmed his desire to learn, and he stepped into the adjoining bathroom.  Harry stripped down to his boxers for a shower, but decided the taste of morning in his mouth was more pressing and stepped over to the sink.  In the mirror, Harry could see bruises left over from his stay with his relatives, but tried his utter best to ignore them.  The sight only made disgust twist at his stomach.

He began to brush, eyes tracking anywhere else in the room but his reflection.  The door opening caught his attention, and he could see Draco’s eyes peering in.  At first he simply looked curious, but when his gaze landed on Harry his expression became intense.

Draco slipped into the room until he was standing behind Harry, eyes on his reflection.  Harry paused in brushing, green eyes meeting his gaze in the mirror full on.  Some intense sort of emotion charged the air, and it was what kept Harry from flinching back or diving for his clothes.

Grey eyes broke away and tracked over Harry’s chest and face, taking in every healing cut and bruise.   Slowly, Draco reached up and placed on hand on his back.  Under him, Harry twitched and winced slightly at the pain, and he lessened the pressure, tracing the splashes of colour like a gust of air.  His fingers ghosted over every bruise on Harry’s back until he reached the elastic of his boxers.  Then he slid them back up until they rested on Harry’s least bruised shoulder and rubbed at it like one might a cat.  Harry continued to stare at him, but his eyes drooped somewhat and he relaxed.

Blonde strands of hair splayed against Harry’s other shoulder as Draco lightly rested his forehead on it.  The hand that had been rubbing slid down to his waist and was joined by the other.  Slowly and gently, Draco wrapped Harry in a hug.   After a few moments, Harry’s head tilted slightly to rest against Draco’s.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, before Draco stepped back away.  The odd atmosphere broke, and they were left blinking awkwardly at each other.  Harry shifted from foot to foot, now anxious to cover himself up, and Draco looked utterly baffled at his own actions.  “I’ll...I’ll wait in your room.”  The blonde informed him, before making his retreat on the door, closing it firmly behind him.

Harry turned his eyes back to the mirror, staring at his own form for a moment.  One hand came up to lightly rest against where Draco’s hands had linked on his stomach.  Somehow, he didn’t look so awful anymore.

Spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing, Harry slipped back into his clothes.  It wasn’t a good idea to let Draco wait for long.  He’d start poking through Harry’s things out of sheer impatience.  With one last glance at the mirror, Harry slipped back out after his friend, ready to face the day.

There had been an awkward preamble before they finally settled into the natural flow of things.  They headed to the living room and played chess while waiting for everyone else to wake up.  Draco won two games and Harry won once.  He really needed to work on his strategies.  Draco talked about trying out for new Slytherin chaser position that had opened up and offhandedly mentioned there was a beater position open and wondered if they could bully Pansy into joining.  Mostly Harry just listened and nodded along.  It was a comforting sort of noise that only Draco brought. 

Finally Narcissa and Lucius joined them and they sat down for breakfast.  Harry noted that his portion sizes were almost normal.  His stomach had rebelled the first night and he spent half of it in the bathroom retching.  After a month of barely eating anything at all, the weight of food in his stomach had been too much to handle.  Now, however, his body seemed to be getting back into the swing of things and Harry very much appreciated it. 

“The Ministry is holding a Dueling Competition this weekend,” Narcissa announced, reading the society pages of the  _Prophet_.  “We should go and watch.  Harry have you seen a dueling match before?”

Harry shook his head.  “Never. What is it?”

“Two competitors fire spells at one another on a platform.  It’s a great test of skill.  It’s quite fun to watch.”

Harry nodded his head eagerly.  “I’d like that.”

“Wonderful, I’ll owl for tickets.”

“Speaking of things to do,” Draco said as he finished a bite of his breakfast.  “Your birthday is tomorrow, what do you want to do?”

Harry paused.  He hadn’t even realized his birthday was the next day.  Since arriving at the Manor he wasn’t counting the days as he had been with the Dursleys.  He lowered his tea to the table and swallowed.  “Dunno.”  What did witches and wizards do for their birthdays?  All he had to go on was the events of Dudley’s past birthdays.  He chewed on a bit of bacon as he thought.  

“Well...”  Narcissa finally uttered, breaking the silence.  “What sorts of things do Muggles do on their birthdays.”  Harry was grateful for the prompt, steering him back into familiar territory.  “Erm... Well... most people go out for dinner, older ones go to pubs.  Lots of people will go to the cinema and see films...”  Harry trailed off at the three blank stares.  “It’s... A form of entertainment.  Stories on a big screen....”

“Oh!”  Draco nodded his head.  “We’ve seen that thing, Mother.  When we go into London.  They have them in shop windows.”

Narcissa nodded slowly before turning her eyes on Harry.  “What else do they do?”

“Well, my cousin Dudley went to the zoo one year.  We saw elephants and tigers and lions.  That was interesting.”  Harry mused some more, really not sure of what else they could do. 

“Well,” Narcissa reached over and patted Harry’s hand.  “How about tomorrow we go to Diagon Alley and we change some galleons to that silly paper money and we go around London?  If you see anything you’d like to do, we can do it.”

That sounded wonderful.  It was the least amount of pressure on him, which made him relax.  “That sounds great.”

“We can even take that... pipe thing...”

Harry coughed into his hand to hide his laughter at Lucius’ words.  “Do you mean the Tube?”

Lucius nodded once, giving no sign of embarrassment due to his miswording.  “Exactly.”

Before long breakfast was over and Narcissa set about writing a letter to gather tickets as well as to write Snape.  Harry flushed at that, feeling oddly warmed by the fact his professor had worried about him.  Lucius excused himself to his study.  Harry watched as the table cleared itself and a fresh table cloth and vase of flowers was set on it. 

“Do you want to try making some new potions as practice for this year?”

Harry blinked and looked over at Draco.  “But we’re not allowed to use magic outside of school.”

Draco scoffed and waved a hand.  “ _Pshh_  the Trace?  It doesn’t work.  We’re around adults!  And in a pure blood household.  The Trace gets all confused and so the Ministry doesn’t bother.  Besides, even if I did get a letter, my Father could basically buy Fudge’s head and box his ears for all he cares.”

Harry stared openly.  “But... That’s not fair! How is it you or Pansy could do it but I couldn’t because I’m around Muggles?”

Draco shrugged.  “But you’re not anymore, are you?  How come you think Slytherins are so advanced in our magic.  We take advantage of the loopholes and use them!”

Harry gawked a moment.  He mulled the idea over.  The idea to impress Snape was compelling and he didn’t want to become rusty because of his stupid family.  “Alright, sounds like fun.”

~*~

July 31st dawned bright and clear, and the extended Malfoy Family ate a quick breakfast before heading out to Diagon Alley.  They made a quick stop at Gringotts, where Narcissa changed a unnecessarily large amount of galleons into pounds.  Harry tried to protest, both that the amount of money they had was excessive, and that they didn’t have to spend anything on him at all, but Draco shot him a strange look and Narcissa’s expression took on a hint of pity.

“So, for shopping, meals, and....what was it called again?  The cinema?”  Harry nodded, a trifle reluctantly.  “The goblin gave us 5000 pounds.  I hope that will be enough.”  If he made a choked sound at that, the Malfoys were polite enough to ignore it.

“Narcissa,”  Harry tried again.  “I don’t think the things we’ll be doing will be quite that costly.”

She waved a hand imperiously at him.  “Nonsense, this is a perfectly reasonable amount to spend for a birthday.”   Neither Draco nor Lucius seemed to think anything wrong with that statement, and so Harry gave up for the time being.  Hopefully they would get it when they entered London.

When they first exited the Leaky Cauldron, Harry could see the Malfoy masks harden a bit, and the light of dismissal start to appear behind their eyes.  If nothing else came of this day, he really wanted to see this family be able to act like, well, a family in public for once.  And it felt undeniably strange for someone to pay for him like this, but he forced a sunny smile and showed a bit more enthusiasm than he normally would have.

Following Harry’s directions, and a map Tom, the innkeeper for the Leaky Cauldron, had given him with a look of amusement, they made their way to Piccadilly Circus.  When they arrived, it showed how little experience the Malfoys had with Muggles.  Narcissa and Lucius probably would look unruffled to the average observer, but Harry could see the way their eyes darted around in a mixture of intrigue and fear.  Draco on the other hand, seemed very impressed by the illuminated signs and the shops.

“Right,”  Narcissa said, her voice pitched just a bit too normal.  “Where would you like to go first, Harry.”

Harry shrugged slightly, looking around at all the sights and sounds.  In truth, he was kind of overwhelmed himself.  Despite how comfortable he was in the day to day Muggle world, this was just as new an experience for him as it was any of them.  Draco seemed to pick up on his indecision, and simply grabbed Harry’s hand and turned to his mother.  “Can’t we please just take a look around or a while?  There’s no urgency?”

Glancing at the boys considering, Narcissa gave a small nod.  “I suppose that’s a fine plan.  Here,”  She dug into the expensive looking purse she had and pulled out a huge handful of bills.  “This should do if you find anything you’re interested in.  Meet us back here in one hour.”  Draco stuffed the bills into his trouser pockets and before Harry could do more than gape he was being dragged along by the other boy.

Once he could speak around his own shock, Harry asked, “Should we be going out on our own like this?”

Eye-rolling answered his question.  Harry frowned at him, and Draco just gave him a side glance.  “What are the Muggles going to do, exactly?  If it’s self-defense we can cast whatever spells we want, and the Ministry can’t say anything.”

Harry thought about pointing out that any Muggle who was attacking them wouldn’t exactly give them the chance to draw their wands, either, but was honestly too excited about getting to roam around free like this to damper it.

They ducked into Lillywhites when Harry mentioned that it was a sports store, and Harry found himself explaining Muggle sports to a surprisingly enthusiastic Draco.

“I mean, it’s nowhere near Quidditch, but rugby actually sounds like it could be worth something.  At least it has some excitement to it, unlike legball.”

“Football,” Harry corrected, and Draco waved an imperious hand at him, as if such things were beneath his notice.  “Though if you’re looking for violent stuff, you might like boxing.  My uncle and cousins were fans.”

Draco scoffed at him.  “I can assure you, anything they like, I do not.”  His nose went into the air for a moment, before losing it in interest of his curiosity.  “What are the functions of those?”  He pointed somewhere off further into the store before dashing off in its direction.  Harry followed after, rolling his eyes but smiling.  

After Lillywhites, they bounded around the circus itself, and Harry explained about the different products that were being advertised.  Soon enough, the hour was reaching its end, and the boys made their way back to where they had left the elder Malfoys.  

Noticing that they arrived first, the boys took a seat at the fountain, enjoying the shade from the statue of Anteros.  Harry continued his ongoing effort to educate Draco in the ways of Muggles by pointing out various facts about the passer-byes.  Draco seemed particularly enamoured with the idea of a portable music device, and Harry resolved to get one for him to try one day.

Finally, Narcissa and Lucius showed up, now looking absolutely flustered. For them.  The boys bounded up to meet them, and caught Narcissa muttering about possible power sources in tones of great distress.

“It’s electricity.”  Harry offered, and both whirled to face him.  And thus Harry found himself giving a very elementary explanation of how Muggles worked everything, hampered both by his lack of in depth knowledge and the basic foundations of understanding from the Malfoys.

Deciding that maybe a place to let them sit down and think would be a smart idea, Harry directed them towards the cinemas around the station.

“That one has vampires!  Let’s go see that one.”  Draco pointed out eagerly.  But then his eyebrows drew together.  “But I thought the Muggles didn’t know about magic at all.”

Harry shrugged a bit.  “They don’t really  _know_.  It’s just stories or fantasy to them.  A lot of parts of magic show up in their stories.  I guess they see stuff once in a while, and it gets passed on, you know?”

It was tempting to convince them to go to a higher rated movie, but in the end Harry decided not.  For one, he was pretty sure they checked ID for those, and none of them had any.  For another, he didn’t really want to see any of them.  There was that one with the cartoons and that one bloke, but it just looked kind of strange.

They decided on the most kid friendly one,  _Honey, I Blew Up The Kid_.  Harry had intended for it to be a nice, silly, mostly brainless film that wouldn’t cause any trouble.  That was not what he got.

“The Muggles can  _do_  that?”  Lucius demanded when they left the cinema.

Harry turned to him in confusion.  “Do what?”

A single flustered hand wave gave how flustered he was, and Narcissa didn’t look far behind.  “Change each other’s sizes, obviously!  The Lay-Zars and the My-Crow-Waves!  All that...science business.”  

Oh, boy.  “Well, no, not like that.  I mean, yeah, they can do a lot of crazy things with science, but I don’t think making giant two-year-olds is a popular thing to do.”  He’d intended it to be a joke more than anything, but neither parents looked like they felt at all better.

At that point, Draco declared himself hungry, and the group made their way over to the nearest restaurant, which happened to be a McDonalds.  After a brief problem at the register where Narcissa refused to believe the food could be that cheap, and explaining what each food item was under the watchful eyes of the baffled employees, they sat at a booth and began to eat.

And, okay, Harry could admit this was rather mean of him.  Really, he’d wanted to come here just to watch the ridiculousness of the Malfoys eating fast food.  Well, that and he’d wanted to try some but had never been allowed before.  In this case, Harry found that he simply could not regret the decision, even after watching their faces as they bit into the processed food.

After the meal, Harry took pity on them and asked if they could go back to Diagon Alley and get desert from Fortescue’s.  Draco perked up at that, and practically dragged Harry back to the Leaky Cauldron.

Draco took charge once they arrived.  He ordered a large sundae with a huge list of toppings, and demanded that Harry  _had_  to try it.  Still feeling slightly bad for the McDonalds thing, Harry agreed with little fuss, and soon a huge sundae piled high with all manner of sweets and nuts (the nuts, Draco insisted, were healthy, and therefore made the treat healthy by proximity).   It was far too large for one boy, even one with a greedy streak like Draco’s.  Grabbing two spoons, the boys dug in.

While they enjoyed their treat, the adults sat in a table a few rows back, speaking in dark undertones to one another.

Harry hoped he hadn’t broken them.

Finally, they finished most of the sundae - finishing all of it was probably impossible, all things considered - and the group went back to Malfoy Manor.  The adults ducked into Lucius’ study almost at once, and Harry thought he might have heard the words ‘need a drink’ be brandished about.

The day was topped off with a late dinner, followed by extravagant puddings.  And while the slightly squashed cake Harry had received last year from Hagrid would always hold a special place in his heart, this birthday dessert had the benefit of being made by someone who didn’t think rock cakes should have the texture of actual rocks.

Once dinner finished, Draco dragged Harry into the foyer, where in their absence a stack of presents had been artfully arranged.  Harry gaped at them, and then at Draco, who rolled his eyes at Harry’s surprise.

“Oh, come off it.  It’s your birthday, of course there are going to be presents!”  And that seemed the end of that.  Unable to argue with that, Harry sat down on the couch, still feeling a bit stunned.  A present floated up by Harry’s head, directed by Narcissa, and he grabbed it with a small smile to match her sympathetic one.

The present turned out to be from Narcissa and Lucius.  It was a pair of goggles - the kind a lot of professional Qudditch players used.  He wondered how he’d fit it over his glasses, when Narcissa interrupted his thoughts.  “They will adjust to match the eyesight of whoever wears them.”  He glanced at her in surprise, wondering if she could read his mind, and she simply smiled mysteriously.  Beside her, Draco rolled his eyes slightly and mouthed ‘It’s a mother thing’.  

“Brilliant,” He finally declared.  “Thank you very much.”  Narcissa smiled at him, and Lucius gave him a cordial nod.

From Pansy he got a few items wrapped together - a broom polishing kit,  _Quidditch Throughout the Ages_ , and  _Dangerous and Fun Tricks for Seekers_.  He grinned and resolved to thank her publicly for it once they got back to Hogwarts.  She’d appreciate the gesture and the rumors it would let her spread.

The next present was from Draco.  At first glance it was a silver locket, with the Malfoy crest on it.  He glanced at the boy to thank him, but Draco beat him to it.  “It’s a memory locket.  You can put a memory in it, and then go watch it, like a pensieve.”  He didn’t explain what that was, but Harry was too busy being stunned to really care.  “There isn’t a memory in there yet - I figure you can choose whichever one you want.

Harry blinked at him, and then nodded slowly, a smile spreading across his face.  “D’you mind if I don’t choose just yet?  I have to decide which memory.”

Waving a hand, Draco replied, “Take your time.  I can show you how to do it and then you can do it when we get back to Hogwarts.  You can either make it one memory, and it’ll be permanent, or you can switch between a number of them.”

“Thanks, Draco.”  His smile increased even more, and the blonde preened.

The name tag on his final present made him start.  Professor Snape had sent him a present?   Inside was  _250 Tricky Potions: For Those Who Love a Challenge_.   Warmth settled in Harry’s chest as he traced the cover.  That was a huge compliment from the man, and one he wouldn’t be able to replicate, seeing as how he was sure the professor would never give up his own birthday.  But a thought struck him and he turned to Lucius.

“Do you know Professor Snape’s birthday?”

A flash of what might have been approval went through Lucius’ eyes, and he nodded.  “Indeed I do.  It is January 9th.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully and returned to gazing at the book, a vague idea forming in his mind.

The night finally wore down, and the boys headed up to bed, Draco stopped him at the point where they split up.  “You did enjoy everything, right?  Malfoys are always the best, but I’ll admit this was kind of a unique case.”

Meeting his gaze seriously, Harry considered it.  “Well, my last birthday was the day I was introduced to the Wizarding World, so that’s kind of hard to top.”  Draco looked like he was about to pout, so he added, “But it was also the day I met you the first time, remember?”

That perked him up.  “It was, wasn’t it?  Well, I certainly can see why that might make it difficult.”  Draco nodded once, as if conceding a great point.  “But it was good, right?”

“Amazing, all of it.”  He smiled again at Draco, who grinned back.  “Good night.”

“Good night, Harry.  Happy birthday.”

And that night Harry had very good dreams.


	3. Write it Off

The next week flew by at almost a breakneck pace.  They went to the Dueling Competition, which Harry enjoyed greatly, and learned plenty of new, interesting spells to cast.  He especially liked the ones that, while they didn’t physically harm in the sense of leaving cuts or damage, they were still very powerful.  The days were filled with Harry trying out new potions with his present from Snape - including perfecting a colour change potion; orange to green - and sent it off to Snape.  He received an owl the next day that his solution was weak and a little thin.  It made him smile. 

By the end of the week their Hogwarts Letters arrived and they were off to Diagon Alley.  They Flooed there.  Harry found that while not much better, he preferred it to Apparating.  He had dressed casually for the hot weather in a polo shirt and faded jeans, making him stand out against the impeccably dressed, muted dark tones of the Malfoys.  They made their way through the long, busy streets and stopped first at the Apothecary to gather their needed potions ingredients.  If there was one thing Harry had learned last year, it was that Snape, while required by school mandate, hated students using his supply cupboard.  After they gathered up all the disgusting ingredients they could, they sent them away to the Manor. 

They ran into Pansy, who was getting her robe re-fitted and chatted to her in Madame Malkin’s.  They made plans to meet her at a cafe by Scribbulus Everchanging Inks after they finished their shopping.  They paused by Quality Quidditch Supplies where Harry and Draco both spent a long time peering at the new Nimbus 2001 broom in the window.  Harry was loathe.  He loved his Nimbus 2000, but if anyone on the opposing teams, especially the Seekers, got a new broom, they had a speed advantage.  

Finally they went into Flourish and Blotts to get their textbooks.  Almost all of them were by some wizard named Gilderoy Lockhart, whom Harry didn’t know, but who Narcissa was muttering angrily about.  The store was packed when they filed inside.  More insane than usual and Harry grunted in displeasure.  He forced his way through the crowd to get to the stairs leading to the second level.  There was a man by the register, a series of books stacked high beside him and behind him a poster with his beaming face on it.   _Magical Me_  by Gilderoy Lockhart!  Harry’s brow rose in appalled amusement;  _that_  was Lockhart?  

“Merlin’s beard!”  Lockhart exclaimed as he paused in his preening.  “Is that Harry Potter?”

As one the crowd gathered around Lockhart turned and gawked.  Harry groaned silently, wishing nothing more than to disappear.  He hated attention and being ‘special’ more than anything. He wanted to be ‘just Harry’.  A man barrelled his way through the crowd and dragged him through the people.  Harry was shouldered and touched and gasped at.  He was eventually shoved beside Lockhart and blinked owlishly as flashbulbs went off everywhere, practically blinding him.

The worst part, was behind it all, he could see Draco laughing. 

Arse. 

Lockhart threw a casual arm around Harry’s shoulder, and Harry had to resist the very strong urge to shove him off, and maybe curse him.  When he squirmed a bit, trying to get free, Lockhart clamped down on his side, and he swallowed down a little burst of panic. 

“What wonderful timing you have, Harry, my dear boy.  You’ve arrived just in time for my big announcement.”  He paused again for the camera flashes, before he raised his voice so that everyone in the shop could hear him perfectly.  “When Harry Potter walked Flourish and Blotts, he expected only to obtain my latest book,  _Magical Me_.  But not only will I be giving him that, absolutely free,” He paused for some people - near all witches with stars in their eyes - to simper about that.  “But I’ll do him one better.  He’ll be getting the real Magical Me!  This year, I will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts to the lucky students at Hogwarts!”

More flashes, and Harry worried that he was going to go blind.  Finally he managed to get himself free of the man, only to have a stack of books shoved into his arms and for more cameras to go off.

Finally Harry managed to slip away from the man and the reporters and stood next to the Malfoys.  Narcissa shrunk his books and floated them into a bag hovering peacefully at her side, which no doubt held Draco’s books as well.  He quickly maneuvered around the crowd to get the rest of his books, and a couple others besides.  After paying, they made their way to the exit, before they were interrupted.

“Enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

Harry whirled around to see Ron grinning at him amongst a gaggle of redheads, joined by Hermione and Neville.  “Oh, loads.  You know me.”  He smiled back, and Neville rolled his eyes playfully.

“I dunno, mate, you looked like you’d rather have those books shoved up your-” Whatever Fred - or maybe George - had been trying to say was cut off by an outraged cry from their mother.  The woman looked up at him, and Harry gave her a little smile and wave in recognition.  She smiled back, but it was a bit tense, and only got worse when her eyes tracked over to the Malfoys, who managed to be off-putting and polite looking at the same time.

Rolling his eyes slightly, Harry stepped back with them, and saw Draco relax somewhat.  “I’d stay and chat, but Draco and I are meeting up with Pansy.”

He got various murmurs of agreement, some cheerful and some darker, and Molly nodded at him.  “It was nice seeing you again, dear.”   _Present company notwithstanding_ , Harry added mentally.  “But we do want our chance at getting the books signed.  Come along now, it’ll end soon and we don’t want to have waited for nothing.”

Draco got that glint that meant he was about to say something foolish, and Harry pressed their shoulders together briefly to stop him.  Instead, he gave his own goodbyes and made his way out.  The disdain of his companions was clear, but Harry was determined to ignore it.  He didn’t see why he had to be friends with only one side, after all, when both had been perfectly pleasant to him.

They made their way to the cafe, and Narcissa and Lucius separated to get their own table.  It was a few minutes before Pansy showed up.  When she finally did enter, she paused dramatically at the door, and then dashed at Harry.  The pause and how very different she was from his uncle kept him from flinching when she flung herself dramatically into his arms, like long-lost lovers on the cover of a romantic novel.  Whispers broke out in the cafe as people began to recognize first Harry, and then Draco and Pansy.  Once she was finished, she backed away from him, and then threw herself at Draco with equal passion.  The whispers increased.

Pleased with herself, she dragged them over to a table where they ordered drinks.  “Have you been enjoying Malfoy Manor?”  Pansy asked Harry, after they got the more normal greetings out of the way.

“It’s brilliant.”  Harry responded instantly, and beside him Draco’s expression lightened.  “Narcissa and Mr. Malfoy... Merlin, it sounds even weirder when they’re next to each other like that - have been great.”

Pansy’s dark eyes were just a little too thoughtful, so Harry changed the subject.  “Do you think classes are going to be much harder?”

The dismissive hand wave Draco made nearly sent his tea splashing out of his cup.  “It’s only our second year.  They aren’t going to be quite so easy on us, but they have plenty of time to get to the actually challenging stuff later.”

“Yeah, of course it won’t be hard, considering what we have to do later, but how difficult is it going to be compared to our experiences so far.”  Pansy argued.

Sipping on his cooling tea, Harry shrugged one shoulder.  “Have you read through our defense books at all?”  

Pansy nodded and sighed, sounding just a tad dreamy.  Harry and Draco stared at her.  “Oh, come off it.  He’s gorgeous.  I doubt he did the stuff he claims - the man is clearly a bit of an idiot - but that smile...”  She trailed off slightly, smiling into the middle distance.

“Why do we spend time with her again?”  Draco asked Harry in a stage whisper.

Harry shrugged back, taking up the air of long-suffering that he’d picked up from Draco.  “I have no idea.  You were the one who introduced us.  I put up with her because I thought she was your friend.”

Underneath the table, Pansy kicked both of them hard on the shins.  Her dreamy stare didn’t falter in the least.

Harry broke up a scone he bought and took a bite of it before a long sip of his tea.  “You should come over to the manor some time and we can all do some stuff.  Like play mock Quidditch.”  

Pansy looked over at Harry, her dreamy eyes slowly dwindling a bit.  “I’m not much of a flyer, but that sounds like fun.”  She straightened and took a sip of her hot and spicy chocolate before oozing back into her seat.  “I heard Nott is trying out for the beater position.”

Draco sneered a little and scoffed.  “I don’t know why you hang around with him.”

Pansy rose her shoulders in a shrug and brushed her hair from her face.  “His family and mine go back.  His and yours too, you know.”

Draco pouted a little and took a long sip of his blended drink.  Harry smirked a little when Draco sat back with whipped cream smudged over his lip, and tossed a serviette in his face.  Draco wiped his mouth before wadding the serviette back up and throwing it in Harry’s face with a haughty smirk.  Sufficiently assured he had gotten his revenge, Draco turned his attention back to Pansy.  

“Do you honestly think Lockhart is going to teach us anything useful in Defence?  Not that it isn’t a completely useless subject, mind, but honestly, with the way things are nowadays, a Dark Wizard or Witch is unlikely to pop up.”

Harry snorted at took a long sip of his tea.  “Are you forgetting last year?  You, me, Pansy, Professor Snape, giant chessboard, evil Quirrell?”

“Well that was a fluke, surely.”  Draco frowned a minute as his theory was attacked and he had to reassess.  

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence as they all tried to agree with that. 

“Weasley’s little sister is getting Sorted this year.”  Pansy’s muffled voice finally broke the silence.  “Does that family just breed?”

Draco sniggered and licked his lips.  “Well, they haven’t got much money, have they?  I s’pose they need to do something to pass the time.”

“Ugh, Draco that’s disgusting!”  Pansy shuddered and tossed her hair back.  “No doubt she’ll be in Gryffindor.”

Harry tuned back into the conversation as the teapot poured him some fresh tea.  “What do you have against the Weasley family, anyway?”

“They’re just...”  Draco trailed off a minute, looking at Harry before looking away, his words never came. 

“They....” Pansy’s mouth screwed up in thought, no doubt musing on how to word her argument.  “There’s a certain way that pure blooded families are meant to behave, and theirs isn’t doing so.”

Harry’s brow rose.  “So... You don’t like them because they’re different?  That’s stupid.”

Draco opened his mouth to argue before he closed it and instead looked down at his drink.  Harry turned to look at Pansy, who was studying the wood grain in the wall with extreme interest.  Harry heaved out a sigh.  He had asked one of those questions he wasn’t supposed to again.  But he just couldn’t understand the strange sort of prejudices that some wizarding families had.  Harry looked down at his tea as the honey stirred itself in with a large dollop of milk. 

One day he was sure he would get the hang of this ‘Slytherin’ thing.

The post-bad-question-awkwardness was the death of their conversation, and soon they said their good-byes and prepared to head out.  Flooing was just as terrible the second time around, and only a quick snag of his robes by Draco kept Harry from tumbling onto his face.

A question that had been bothering Harry again bubbled up in his chest, and this time the frustration he felt from the conversation fueled his curiosity, rather than beat it down as ‘ungrateful’.   But in this case, maybe he did have the right to know, and anyway his nosiness had always been strong.  It would bug him until he asked the older Malfoys.

Normally, Narcissa and Lucius left the boys to their own devices, but before either could slip away, Harry called out to them.  “Excuse me, do you mind if I ask something?”  

“Of course,” Narcissa replied easily, turning to face him.  Lucius eyed him from the side, clearly wondering if he wanted to bother.  Draco watched him with open interest.  Twitching from foot to foot, Harry darted his eyes between parents and son, unsure if they wanted him to be around for this.

Clearing his throat, Harry responded, “It’s about my time at the Dursleys.”

The elder Malfoys exchanged quick glances at that, and then nodded at him.  “Very well.  Let’s go to Lucius’ office.  The foyer is not a place for such a conversation.”  Harry returned their nod, his version slightly feeble and nervous, and started after them.  Draco started to follow, but Narcissa sent him a look that stopped him in his tracks - another mother power Harry was learning about.

Lucius’ office was the size of the master bedroom back at the Dursleys, and the walls were lined with huge, antique bookshelves.  The desk was mahogany, with designs made of silver twisted sparingly into the front.  The desk had multiple parchments lined up neatly on its surface.  A small, light sound, almost like singing, seemed to reverberate around the room.  Harry wondered if one of the wireless radios that Draco had mentioned was hidden in the room.

The door closed softly behind him, and the lock clicked into place with a whispered word.  Lucius settled at his desk with a deep sign, and Narcissa remained at Harry’s side, one hand gently resting on his shoulder.

“I imagine you would like to know why you remained for so long with those Muggles.”  Lucius began, folding his hands on the desk.  Harry nodded again, just once, and his hair slipped over his forehead to cover his eyes.  

For a moment the adults stared at each other, and something seemed to pass between them, before Narcissa spoke up.  “When we came back to the Manor, Draco told us what you had said.  He demanded that we go and get you straight away.”  A note like pride entered her voice for just a moment, before it softened back to the calming tone she’d started with.  “However, in this case, both your ages were a problem.  To us, it sounded like youthful exaggeration.  So we weren’t terribly receptive to what he was saying at first.”

“But Draco wore you down.”

“He does have a gift for that, doesn’t he?”  Lucius agreed.  “Yes, eventually the specific nature of his claims, and our observations of you during the winter break - Oh, do pick your head up, it’s not what you think.”  Harry had flinched slightly and ducked further beneath the shield of his hair.  “You are simply a rather withdrawn young man.  Your reluctance to communicate your desires could be the result of simply social anxiety, rather than the sort of long term abuse Draco was implying.”

Narcissa patted his shoulder again, a comfort against Lucius’ blunt words.  To be honest, Harry appreciated both.  “Finally, Draco convinced us that simply taking a look would not be an imposition, so we contacted Hogwarts in hopes of gaining your location.  The Headmaster denied it to us - he claimed that you were in the safest possible place. No matter how we pressed, all he would say is that he had ways of checking on you, and that you were not to be disturbed.  He agreed with our initial belief that it was simple exaggeration, and heavily implied that he was keeping a close eye on you.”

The dark head finally came up, and Harry gazed at her with wide, surprised eyes.  “He said that?  No one has ever checked up on me before.  Well, that I remember, I suppose.”

A dismissive hand gesture from Lucius caught his eye.  “He never actually stated that he or anyone else had directly visited you.  No matter what he said, the basic fact is that he refused to give out your address, and we were satisfied for the time being.  Draco, however, was not.   By this point it became clear that you were not answering your mail.”  

At that Lucius eyed Harry, who hunched his shoulder slightly.  “The Dursleys stopped allowing me to get the mail - I figure Titan dropped the letters off with the rest of it and they destroyed them.”

A moment passed, before Narcissa spoke, voice carefully blank.  “Draco continued on, but as we had stopped listening, he decided to go from a new angle.  He contacted Professor Snape and asked if there was any way he could help.”  Harry perked up again at the mention of his professor and eyed Narcissa.  “He agreed with Draco that there was reason to be concerned, and he also tried to talk to Dumbledore.  His results were much the same as ours.”

Harry’s shoulder’s tensed more, and he focused on the music - the radio for which he still couldn’t spot - and tried to calm down somewhat.  After the events of last year, he’d been kind of fond of the Headmaster, and hearing that he was the reason Harry had been stuck there for so long.  The music itself was strange, almost discordant, and if the singers were going on his an almost vicious whisper.  It didn’t sound like the sort of thing any of the Malfoys would listen to.  “How did you find me, then?”  He asked, when he was finally in control of himself.

“Your necklace.”  Narcissa tugged lightly on the string of it.  “It has location spells on it as a safety feature.  It takes a good amount of magic to use, however, and so we did not feel it worth the expenditure until it got to that point.”  She paused, and then added, “I sincerely wish we had.”

Smiling weakly at her, Harry nodded, one hand coming up to play with the necklace.  “I... I see.  Thank you for explaining.”  He stood, ready to be out of the room.  Despite how nice they’d been, he didn’t want to break down in front of them in the least.  As his emotions rose, so did the volume of the music.

Neither Malfoy reacted to the increased noise, and Harry couldn’t help blinking at them in confusion.  “The music isn’t bothering you?”

Both stared at him in confusion.  “Music?”  Lucius echoed, eyes narrowing.

Nodding slowly, Harry felt his stomach drop.  “Yeah, the whispery stuff.”  Again, the adult Malfoys traded looks.

“Harry, perhaps you should sit?”

He shrugged of the hand that was still resting on his shoulders.  “I’m not crazy, I swear.  I think it’s coming from over there.”  He pointed to the bookshelf that was farthest away from the door.  It looked slightly older than the others, and many of the books on it were dark with no titles on the spine.   Narcissa continued to look concerned, but Lucius froze, and then a thoughtful expression came over him.

“Perhaps...”  He went over and picked up a book.  It looked somewhat like the sort of diaries they sold at Flourish and Blotts.  “Is this the source of the noise?”  He brought it closer, and now Harry could tell it wasn’t really music at all, just a group of hissing voices, all whispering unintelligibly.  Harry nodded, and something in him called out to the book.  

His gaze must have been longing, because with an almost sly look in his face, Lucius handed the book to Harry.  Instantly, he clutched it to his chest, some instinct in him telling him to keep it safe.  Lucius glanced at his wife, and then back at Harry, gray eyes narrowed.  “That item is...rather questionable in nature, Mr. Potter.  I have no doubt that it is quite powerful.  I would advise extreme caution in using it, if at all.”

Slowly, Harry nodded in response.  Before he could say anything, Narcissa grabbed his shoulders and gently led him out.  “Go ahead and put that away for now, Harry.  I’m sure Draco is quite bored on his own, and you know how he gets.”  Once he was out the door, it clicked closed behind him.  He heard her cast ‘Silencio’, and then nothing.

Harry had spent the rest of the day in an odd sort of mood.  He practiced some potions with Draco, but his mind was elsewhere, locked on the diary that he had flipped through and stored away in his bedroom.  Everything else seemed sort of muffled and heavy, like he was moving underwater.  If he focused hard enough, almost like tuning back in, the world was normal again.  

Harry didn’t know which way he preferred. 

“--Platform 9 ¾ on Sunday.”

Harry shook himself out of his reverie and jolted back into the conversation.  He dragged a piece of chicken through the sauce on the plate and took a bite.  He had been wondering how they would get there.  He figured they would Apparate right onto the platform, but with all of their things it would be difficult.  He finally asked his question aloud.

Narcissa lowered her wine and smiled at him.  “We’ll Floo to Diagon Alley and then take a taxi.  It’s far too far for us to take one from here, besides, this place is magicked to prevent prying Muggle eyes.”

Harry nodded his head and took a bite of his roast potatoes.  He tuned out the conversation again and watched as the Malfoys moved about, conversing.  After finishing most of his plate Harry excused himself from the table and went to his room.  When he arrived in his bedroom he closed the door and laid down on his bed.  He rolled onto his stomach and pulled out the strange, whispering book.

It was difficult to put into words what holding the book did.  It was calming. Like an itch inside of him was wiped away when he held it.  The cacophony of noise it made was a pleasant background noise.  Comforting.  Harry thumbed through the faced, yellowed pages.  The dairy was old, from 1943, but it looked - aside from the faint aging - pristine.  Harry turned it over and over in his hands, feeling the black, old, cracked leather run over his palms.  He stopped a moment and blinked down at the gilded lettering on the back of the book - TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE.  

A knock on his door tore Harry from his staring and he tossed the book in his trunk.  It hit the bottom with a resounding thump and Harry piled his robes over it, hoping maybe to muffle the noise.  He latched the lid and climbed back onto his bed, calling for whoever it was to come in.  Narcissa opened the door and peered inside before slipping in and closing the door behind her. 

“How are you feeling, Harry?”

“Fine.  Just tired.”

Narcissa nodded her head and sat down on the edge of Harry’s bed.  “I hope what Lucius and I told you didn’t upset you.  I know the transition has probably been difficult.”

“I’m grateful, really.”  Harry shifted in place before smiling up at the woman.  “You’ve already done so much for me.”

“Well, you are Draco’s closest friend.  We do this partially to maintain the peace in this house.”  She leaned closer to Harry, lowering her voice a little.  “Between you and me, I’ve spoiled him a bit too much.  He’s become quite the little snoot.” 

Harry choked on a laugh and nodded agreeably.  “Well, whatever the motivation.  Thanks.”

Narcissa nodded her head curtly and shifted on the bed to sift her fingers lightly through Harry’s hair.  They sat there like that a while in companionable silence, before her hand fell away to the coverlet on the bed.  “Well, I’m sure you’d like to get some early rest.”

“That would be lovely.”

Narcissa hummed in the back of her throat before she took Harry’s head into her hands and pressed a kiss to the top of his unkempt head.  She turned her head and rested a cheek on the crown of his head, nuzzling slightly.  “You will take care, Harry?  That book Lucius gave you is a strange object.  We do not know its intent, or the reasons it was made.  Merely were given it a long time ago.  It may be cursed or it may be harmless - all I know is that it’s sat on that bookshelf since it entered the Manor.”

Harry nudged into her loose embrace and burrowed himself into her neck.  “I promise.  It’s already buried in the bottom of my trunk.  I’ll probably forget all about it.”

“Good. That’s probably for the best.”  Narcissa pulled away lightly and stood.  “Well...”  She blinked down at Harry and studied him a moment.  “Goodnight.”

Harry returned her words with a quiet murmur and watched as she swept from the room.  She murmured a soft command and the lights dimmed before she shut the door, leaving him alone once more.  Harry stared at the door for a long moment before changing into his pajamas.  He crawled back into bed and nestled himself comfortably under the covers.  Removing his glasses, Harry turned onto his stomach, curling one arm under the pillows to clutch at the bed sheets he settled comfortably.  Harry fell asleep to the sound of the Manor settling.


	4. Chapter 4

“Hullo, Harry,” Blaise greeted as Harry entered the Slytherin car of the Hogwarts Express.  

“‘lo Blaise.  Good summer?”

“Alright.  Went to Sweden with my mum and her new fiance.  Swedish witches are on point.”

Harry returned Blaise’s impish grin as he moved through the aisle, looking in various compartments for Pansy.  He cringed when he passed one with the shade down and obvious sounds coming from it.  He kicked the door.  “Cast a silencing charm, won’t you?”  Seconds later the sounds were gone.  

Advancing down the line Harry finally found the small four square of seats Pansy had procured and waved.  She waved back and patted the seat next to her.  Across from her was another girl.  Harry was sure he had seen her around, but he couldn’t place her name.  She was stocky and round-faced with hard brown eyes and curly, dark hair.  He nodded to her in greeting and she grunted. 

“This is Millicent,”  Pansy introduced.  “Everywhere else was full, unless you wanted to sit in the Hufflepuff car.  Or sit with the firsties.”  

Harry shrugged.  “This is fine.”

“Where’s Draco?”

Harry looked at Pansy as he tugged a book from his bag.  The day before they had returned to Diagon Alley for any last minute things.  It had been an utter madhouse.  Still, Harry had purchased some books, some of which were written by Shakespeare - “honestly, you think that man was a Muggle” Draco had proclaimed with an eye roll - and some by Wizarding authors.  “Last I saw he was talking to Flint about signing up for Quidditch.  He said he’d join us after he saw Crabbe and Goyle.”

Pansy nodded her head and opened her copy of  _Magical Me_.  Harry did his best not to roll his eyes at Lockhart’s preening, winking photo.  Instead he opened his copy of  _Hamlet_.  

A few minutes later, Draco made his way in, closing the door behind him with a decisive click.  He was smirking big enough to split his face in two, and plopped down beside Millicent with a considering glance, before labeling her as mostly inconsequential and nodding slightly.  Millicent blinked back and seemed to decide the same thing, before turning her gaze out the window.

From where he was sprawled regally, Draco tilted his head slightly in anticipation.  Harry rolled his eyes over the cover of his play, but obliged.  “What did Flint say, Draco?”  He asked, voice ever so slightly theatrical.

“I talked to him about the Chaser position, and told him about my Father’s offer.”  Draco paused dramatically.  “He said he’d be looking for me, and he sounded very interested indeed.”  The blonde preened, and Pansy gave him a distracted smile before turning back to Lockhart’s ‘adventures’.  Millicent grunted.

Harry, however, frowned.  “What offer?”

An eyebrow was arched in his direction.  “My Father offered to buy the entire team Nimbus 2001s if he put me on the team.”  Harry’s face blanked slightly, and Draco waved a hand at him.  “Don’t worry, you can still use your broom.  It was a present after all.”

Shaking his head, Harry responded, “No, that’s not it.  Well, yes, I will be using my Nimbus, but...”  He paused for a few moments.  “I just think I would hate it if I got on the team just because my dad bought me on.  I’d want to get the position because I’m the best.”

Draco snorted, sounding vaguely insulted.  “Oh, come off it.  I’m simply using all the resources at my disposal.”

Okay, he’d tried to nice way.  “Oh, okay.  I just thought you’d want to show how a Malfoy handles himself on a broom.  If you just buy your way on, then everyone will think that’s why you made the team, and that your talent wasn’t enough.  I guess even a Malfoy can’t be the best at everything.”

The Malfoy heir said nothing in response to that, but crossed his arms and stared out the window for a while.  Harry went back to his play, and silence filled the compartment for a time.

Finally, Draco broke.  “Would you like to play some chess?”  He pointed to Harry’s bag, which had the chess set they’d packed in it.  Shrugging, Harry put down  _Hamlet_  and pulled out the board to set it up.

For a while they played in silence, before Draco murmured, “I don’t understand you.”

Harry glanced up at him, confusion on his face.  “What’s to understand?”

“You do all these stupid Gryffindor stunts, like the stuff with the Stone last year, or the way you fly a broom, but then you do something Slytherin, like that speech before.  I don’t get how you can switch between the two like that.”

Shrugging, Harry moved his knight, only for Draco to take it.  He suppressed a wince, and then replied, “Maybe I”m both.”

He moved his pawn forward a space.  “I don’t think people can be both.  They’re so opposite.  That’s what the rivalry is about, in the end.  Gryffindors and Slytherins just don’t see eye to eye.  That and they’re irritating little sods.”

“Well, clearly people can be.  Besides, it’s not like Potter here is unfamiliar with the impossible.”  Millicent spoke up, startling both boys.  In all honesty, with the quiet still way she held herself, they had forgotten her. 

She might have planned it that way too, judging by the interested way she was looking at them.

Draco frowned at her, disliking the way she forced her way into the conversation.  “So you say, Bulstrode.”

A snort was his answer, and she turned her attention back to the window.  Harry glanced back at Pansy, and caught her ducking back behind her book, the ghost of a smirk on her face.  Harry rolled his eyes at her, and all of Slytherin in general, before turning back to Draco.  “She’s basically right.  I seem to do what people least expect, from Voldemort’s attack,” he paused for the children to shudder, “To being sorted into our House, to how I react in bad situations.”  He shrugged.  

“Well, we’ll just have to train the Gryffindor out of you.”  Draco declared, tossing his head, before he grinned at Harry.    
Harry simply rolled his eyes again.  “I have no doubt that you will, Draco.  No doubt in the least.”  That got a choked off laugh from behind him, and he smirked at the Malfoy heir, he gave him a bland stare in return.

They continued playing chess for a while longer, and then branched out into other games once they pried Pansy from her book and ignored the slightly glassy look to her eyes.  After that first incident, they kept carefully aware of Millicent’s presence and made sure not to let their words slip.  Finally, they arrived at Hogwarts, and though this time he had the Malfoy Manor to compare it to, and he didn’t get the awe inspiring view from the lake like the first years, he still thought it was the most beautiful place he’d ever seen.

The rest of the night was fairly familiar.  Harry found it easy to fall into his Hogwarts routine.  Excitement buzzed around him and by the time they had passed through the archway with the password - Mordred - he was practically vibrating.  The Manor was superb and he was so grateful for all they had done for them, but the common room and the dorms of Slytherin had been his first welcome home after Privet Drive.  They held a special place in his heart.  Taking a seat near the long, narrow windows looking out into the Black Lake, Harry peered out into the dark water.  Every so often a flicker of silvery fish would dart by and he would smile.  

“We should go over some spells!” Pansy dropped into a chair across from Harry, quickly followed by Draco, Blaise and Millicent.  Harry wasn’t sure what to think of the newest addition to their pack, but if she was fine by the rest of them, she was fine by him.  Besides, she stood up for him.  Kind of.

Millicent pulled out her wand, it was long and it was a light coloured wood, maybe birch, and knotted.  It looked ancient and ominous.  Harry found it suited her.  She swirled her wand before pointing it up.  “Verdimillius.” 

Green sparks shot out of the tip of her wand in a high arc before slowly falling back to the table where they fizzled out harmlessly.  Blaise clapped politely before taking up his own wand.  He tapped it against his chin, thinking.  

“I know one.”  Pansy shifted excitedly in her chair.  “My cousin from America taught me this one!”  She brandished her wand and traced it in a circle.  “Avis!” 

A flock of blue and white twittering birds shot with a crack out of Pansy’s wand and flew about in a circle over their table. Draco eyed it approvingly, nodding his head and looked to Pansy with a smile. 

“That’s a completely useless spell, you realize that?”

“Apparently there’s a way to make them attack, I just don’t know how.”  Pansy crossed her arms with a huff before drawing her wand again.  “Finite.”  Pansy looked at Draco, annoyed.  “Let’s see you do something better, then.”

Draco smirked haughtily and pushed up the sleeves of his robe.  “Prepare to be wowed, Parkinson.”  Draco reached into his pockets and pulled out a box of chocolate frogs from his robe and set it on the table.  Taking a deep breath, Draco help up his wand and shut his eyes, he swished and directed his wand at the box.  “Depulso.”

The box shook a moment before there was a sucking noise and pop and then it was gone.  Pansy gaped and then looked at Draco.  Then at the spot again.  Her eyebrows did some spectacular aerobics moving up and down as she made a quiet wheezing noise before slumping back in her chair. 

“Your turn, Harry.” 

Harry shifted uncomfortably.  He still had years to catch up with his magic.  True the others probably bent the rules living in all magic families, but that didn’t seem fair to Harry.  Not to mention he hadn’t had that advantage.  He tried to think of of spells he had seen over the summer, or ones he had read about.  Most of them seemed mild in comparison.  Or dangerous, in the case of the ones he had learned from the Duel.  

Finally his mind settled on one and he pulled out a piece of parchment.  Harry stared at it for a long moment before tapping against it with his wand.  “Lapifors.”

The parchment twitched and rustled.  Slowly it folded itself up and after a long moment, turned white, then grew in size.  Before long a full bodied, live rabbit was twitching it’s nose at the five Slytherins. 

Millicent applauded.  “That’s a very advanced spell, Harry.  You’ve even given it a spot on it’s back, look,” she pointed at the rabbit, which hopped at the movement, “excellent work.”

Harry cleared his throat and flushed a little at the praise.  He had found it in an old spell book in the Malfoy library.  It had seemed silly, but to learn it was advanced made his heart soar.  He watched as his little creation hopped about on the table before moving to Blaise who offered it a Every Flavour Bean.  As the rabbit ate it, Blaise tapped on the rabbit’s back and seconds later it was parchment again.  

“Well, I think that’s enough excitement for me,” Millicent announced, standing from the table.  “I’ll see you all at breakfast.”

They bade her goodnight and Harry stood not long after.  “I’m headed to bed too.  Night.”

Harry walked down to his dorm.  Nott was already in bed, his curtains drawn, snoring loudly.  Draco and Blaise’s beds were obviously empty.  Harry nodded to Crabbe, who was hunched over a parchment, scribbling away.  Harry changed quickly and climbed into his bed.  He placed his glasses aside and turned the sprocket on the lamp before closing his eyes and falling asleep. 

The next morning came too early for most of the students, who were still on summer time and thus blinked and stumbled on their way to breakfast.  Harry, on the other had, was wide awake and ready for the day.

He informed a still groggy Pansy and Draco that he’d be in the Great Hall, and made his way out the passageway.  Before he could get far, he spotted Professor Snape standing in his office door.  The man eyed him for a moment, eyes flickering up and down his body as though searching for something, and then invited him in with a side nod.

Harry followed him into the room, eyeing him with mixed trepidation and pleasure.  He’d missed the sessions with the man during the summer, but he also knew why he was here.  No doubt the professor wanted to know about the Dursleys.

His normal seat was arranged, minus the usual potions supplies, and Harry sat down at it, kicking his feet awkwardly.  A cup of tea was set down in front of him, and after a cautious moment Harry took a sip. Chai tea, just like the last time the professor had wanted to deal with him relations.

Chai tea was beginning to be his least favorite.

Snape knelt down in front of him, gazing at his face as Harry sipped.  The scrutiny was awkward as well, and the boy averted his eyes after a moment.  “Thank you for the birthday present, sir.”  Harry finally said, if only to avoid the inevitable.

“You are welcome.   I understand you’ve been practicing.”  Snape replied, still watching him closely.

Nodding, Harry gave a small smile.  “Yes sir.  You saw some of the results.  Your analysis was helpful.”

Instead of replying, one spidery hand crept up and pressed gently on the side of Harry’s face, where the bruise had been.  His grin slipped and transformed into a slight scowl.  Clearly one of the Malfoys - probably Narcissa - had felt the need to inform him of the damage he’d taken.  Before he could protest, the hand slid down with professional pressure, pressing down ever so slightly on Harry’s ribs.   

“I’m fine, sir.”  Harry finally said, voice flat.  Snape’s dark eyes darted up to meet his, and finally nodded and backed off.

Once the man was a good distance apart, he pointed to Harry’s bag.  “This Saturday, bring the book I sent you at the normal time.  We will begin using potions from that, instead of letting you brew the curriculum ahead of time.”  

Harry’s grin was just ever so slightly impish.  “That’s a bit of a disappointment, sir.” 

A level look was shot his way, and Harry clicked his mouth shut, but didn’t stop grinning.  “Alright, off with you, brat.  I have classes to prepare for.”

Harry made his way to the door, waving.  “See you Wednesday, Professor.”  Snape grumbled at him as he slipped out the door.

The Great Hall was just beginning to fill up when Harry arrived, and even with his delay he still beat his friends there.  They ate breakfast in relative silence, as neither Pansy nor Draco were especially morning people.  The food seemed to transform them into human beings, however, and by the time the trio were heading off to Charms they were lively.

Before they made it, Lockhart seemed to appear out of the walls of the castle.  “Harry, my boy!  Could I have a word?”

Temptation to simply tell the man ‘no’ and walk off crept up in Harry, but finding out what he wanted seemed like the smarter move.  “Alright,”  He agreed, traces of reluctance colouring his words.  Draco glanced at him warily, but Pansy only had eyes for the professor.

“Excellent, excellent.”  Lockhart grabbed his arm and dragged him into a nearby classroom.  Before they slipped through the door, Harry mouthed to Draco to inform Flitwick of the reason for his tardiness.  

Once in, Lockhart eyed Harry with clear speculation, and Harry became faintly nervous.  After all, he was in an abandoned room all alone with a man he didn’t really know.  But the man simply gave him the dazzling smile and opened his mouth.  Any impressions Harry had that he was sinister vanished at that point.  “You’ve been thinking about it, haven’t you?  One might say you’ve caught it, even.”

Harry frowned at him.  “Caught what, sir?”

“Why the fame bug, of course!”  The look Lockhart gave him made it look like Harry was playing a very childish game.  “That picture with me brought it out - it always does.  It’s my natural charisma, I’m sorry to say.  Now, if you were a Gryffindor or some nonsense like that I’d have my worries that you’d do something stupid about it, but you’re a  _Slytherin_.  You’ve got cunning.  You even got a great start.”  He gestured to Harry’s scar, and he had to fight the urge to cover it with his bangs.  “All that business with You-Know-Who is a good place to begin.  But if you want to go far, you’re going to need guidance.  A mentor, if you will.  Someone who can raise you to the utmost potential.  Some who has, say, won  _Witch Weekly_ ’s Most Charming Smile Award five times running.”  Lockhart chuckled warmly, and Harry fought to keep from rolling his eyes.

Getting his reactions under control, Harry answered, “That’s a very nice offer, sir.  But I don’t think I’ll get much applause for failing Charms.  If I could be going.”  Irritation rose further in him, and Harry could feel something in him hardening.  This man was going to keep up this nonsense, wasn’t he?

Lockhart nodded, like it had been his idea.  “Wonderful, wonderful.  Keeping other people expectations in mind already?  I do have an eye for potential, don’t I?”

No, we was not.  Harry was going to have to deal with him.

Finally, Harry was released from the man’s clutches, and as soon as he was out of view began running towards Charms, hoping he would make it and not have his association with the man become well known.

He wanted to keep as far from Lockhart from possible, so that no one would know it was him when he exposed him.

Luckily Harry made it to Charms right on time and slumped into his seat next to Draco.  They had gone over the previous years spells and Professor Flitwick had collected their homework for the summer before launching into a new lesson; changing the proprieties of an object - size and colour, specifically.  After Charms, Harry snarked at Draco about the thing with Lockhart and the two of them mocked him, ducking any time Pansy swung at them for berating Lockhart’s name.  She knew he was probably all hot air too, but there was some strange schoolgirl thrall that she had fallen under. 

Harry didn’t see it.  Then again, Harry found most things girls did weird.  

They made their way into the - hem hem - “Defense Against The Dark Arts” classroom in a pile of snickers.  A few other students glanced their way and the three of them shared looks as they fell silent before cracking up again as they made their way towards the back of the room.  They dropped into their respective seats at the desk and pulled out their quills and ink and set their wands aside.  Aside from Ravenclaws, Slytherins were noted for their preparedness and scholarly leanings.  

Lockhart was sweeping across the front of the class room, talking about a variety of stupid things.  Harry groaned and rested his chin in his palm, watching Lockhart with a mixture of revulsion and amusement.  Finally parchments were passed around and Harry sat up straighter and looked down at their assignment.  His brows rose in abject horror.   _54 in depth questions to Gilderoy Lockhart._   What kind of questions were these?   _27\. What was the name of Lockhart’s first pet Kneazle?_

“Is he serious?”  Draco asked, leaning over to look at Harry, who was still gaping at the page in shock. 

“I... I guess.”  Harry’s brow creased.  “Maybe it’s a test to see our information gathering techniques.  A know your enemy kind of thing?”

“Then I’m telling you, I’ve failed this one.”  Draco looked over at Pansy who was hurriedly scribbling down her answers.  “Hey, let me see your parchment.”

Pansy smacked Draco’s hand away, not even looking up or pausing in her writing.  “Quiet!  I’m almost done.”

Draco shot Harry a look and the two of them shrugged.  Draco spent his time answering the questions with the most sarcastic, rude answers he could come up with while Harry didn’t even bother.  Instead he drew a picture of a Flobberworm with an arrow pointing to it, naming said Flobberworm, Gilderoy. 

“Time’s up!”  Lockhart collected the parchments with a flick of his wand and picked up a quill and garishly pink ink, before beginning to mark.  As he moved through the work, his smile drooped further and further and at one point he actually scoffed and turned an interesting shade of red.  “Well...” Lockhart announced, breaking the silence.  “I am frightfully disappointed with the lot of you.  Only two people here knew all the correct answers - Ms. Parkinson.”  Lockhart motioned to her and she bounced out of her seat and waved.  “And...”  Lockhart consulted his papers again,  “a Mr. Zabini.”

As one the class moved, turning, standing or stretching to look at Blaise, who groaned and sunk low into his seat, practically sliding onto the floor.  Nott, who was sitting next to Blaise prodded him with a laugh.  Blaise smacked his hand away.  “It’s my mum,” he practically screeched, “she’s obsessed with him!”

Curiosity sated for the time being, most people returned to their seats without a fuss.  Pansy, however, was watching as Blaise slumped against the window and kicked at Nott’s stool with a viciousness, with hearts in her eyes.  She sank down into her seat slowly, sighing happily.  

“He’s perfect.”

Harry snorted.  “Yeah, Lockhart’s a real laugh.”  

Pansy looked over at Harry, her lips pursed.  “You’re just jealous.  He’s a heartthrob of so many witches - and a few wizards - but you’re not.”

“Well good,” Harry snapped, kicking his feet on top of the desk with little care as he crossed his arms.  “I don’t want to be.” 

As Harry rocked his stool back on two legs, Pansy kicked at it, causing him to topple backwards onto the floor with a loud cry.  Lying sprawled out on the floor, Harry stayed there, wondering if he could spent the rest of the class looking up at the ceiling.  It was, in his mind, far more educational and interesting than Lockhart.  Of course, Lockhart would have none of that and soon his face invaded Harry’s view.  

“Good lord, are you alright?  You must be suffering from some severe inner ear trouble if sitting straight on a stool made you topple over, Mr. Potter.  I can mend that right quick!”

“No!” Harry sat up sharply and pushed Lockhart away.  “No, no.  That’s quite alright.  I’m perfectly fine.  Poor center of gravity you see.  Sometimes I fall over when I’m standing.  Nothing to worry about.”  Harry pushed at Lockhart lightly, feeling faintly pleased when his dust covered hands smudged over the cream coloured robes Lockhart was wearing.  “On with the lesson,” Harry gritted his teeth, “ _Professor_.”

Lockhart nodded.  “Very well.”  Lockhart righted Harry’s stool and dusted it off.  He watched as Harry sat down and nodded, feeling satisfied.  He made his way up to the front of the classroom.  “In my book  _Holidays with Hags_  I aim to prove that the hag is not as horrible as she has been portrayed in the media.  True, hags are a nasty piece of work and particularly ugly, and they do have a penchant for eating small children, my aim of the book was to show that a true relationship could be bridged between Hags and Wizarding kind.  If you turn to page 17, you’ll see that the first Hag that I spoke with - name withheld - explains her want to integrate quite eloquently.”

Harry pulled out a quill as Lockhart droned on and on.   _Stupefy me now._

Draco took the parchment when it was slid over to him and his eyes slowly turned down to the page.  He scribbled something down before sliding it back over.  Harry grinned at the reply.   _We need to learn an untraceable muting jinx._  

Harry was poised to write his reply when the bell sounded loudly.  Standing in place, Harry shoved the parchment into his bag and watched as Pansy elbowed her way through a group of people to go talk to Blaise.  He shook his head.  

“Come on, let’s get out of here before he corners me to start talking again.”

They had almost made it out the door when Lockhart swooped in.  “Ah, so glad I caught you, Harry.  Remember what I was saying earlier, about mentoring.  Well, I’m offering my services to you.  Meet me here on Wednesday and we can --”

“I’m sorry sir, I have potions training on Wednesday.”

Lockhart looked taken aback and his mouth twisted.  “Very well.  We will figure out a better time a week from today.”

As soon as Lockhart released Harry one of Draco’s hands clamped onto his arm and he was being dragged out of the classroom at a merciless pace that wasn’t quite fast enough for Harry’s liking. 

~*~

Things quickly settled into the normal Hogwarts routine.  Quidditch tryouts came and went, and Draco managed to get the chaser position on at least mostly his own merit - Flint no doubt still remembered what Draco had said to him on the train.  But after his performance, no one could claim that he didn’t have the talent to make it anyway.

Nott, however, did not make the beater position - likely, he just wasn’t old enough to have the proper upper body strength for it, and didn’t have the sort of teamwork the Weasley twins had to make up for it.  He had spent the last two weeks sneering at the two of them, his expressions only getting worse with time.   Instead the position had gone to Millicent Bulstrode, who had more than enough of any kind of strength.   The fact that she was the first girl on the team in nearly a century meant that many of the female Slytherins seemed to now think much more highly of her, where before they had been dismissive of her based on her appearance.

Another problem was that a few days after tryouts, Harry came back to his dorm to find his things moved.  It wasn’t a lot - a cracked trunk and a few things twisted around - but it was enough to make him feel paranoia creeping up in him.  Harry hadn’t noticed anything missing, but he couldn’t help the feeling that he was forgetting something.  

But at the present moment, Harry didn’t mind that.  He was walking side by side with Draco as they made their way to the pitch, preparing for the first day of training for the two new recruits.  Nott tagged along behind them, scuffing his feet and looking dark in general.  He had taken to following the team around, as if simply seeing him all the time would make the team forget that he wasn’t actually one of them.  Harry and Draco had taken to ignoring him - when they did it seemed to minimize his bad mood and the likelihood that he would keep quiet.

When they arrived at the pitch, they found the Gryffindor team already set up.  When their Captain, a fellow by the name of Wood, which Harry really only remembered because of the jokes people made, spotted them, his eyes gleamed with an almost fanatical anger.  The rest of his team tensed, ready for a fight.

“We booked the field!”  He cried, pointing at them.  “I booked it!”

Flint’s eyes were just a bit too pleased as he whipped out a note from his robe pockets.  “I’ve got special permission from Snape. We’ve got to train up our new recruits, don’t we?”

That got Wood’s attention.  “New recruits?  Who, then?”

The sea of green parted to let Draco and Millicent through.  There were murmurings among the Gryffindors, and a few distinct cries of ‘bribery’, but Draco was able to hold his head high.  A shot of pride ran through Harry, and he grinned fiercely.

Harry noticed some movement at the base of the stands, and say Ron, Hermione and Neville slip out onto the field.  He figured the redhead had probably come to support his brothers and feed his well known Quidditch addiction, and the other two had come for him.  The latest Weasley student - a girl, but Harry had forgotten her name - was absent, but maybe she was more like her brother Percy and didn’t approve of the sport.

“What’re they doing here?”  Ron asked.  He nodded at Harry, but glared fiercely at the rest of the team like a pit bull defending it’s territory.   “More importantly, why is  _he_  doing here?”  Harry resisted the urge to sigh.  Really, was it too much to ask for them to get along?

Apparently so, because Draco couldn’t resist rising to that bait.  “I’m the new Chaser, Weasley.  Or are the basic rules of Quidditch beyond you?”  An elbow to the side shut him up, but by then everyone was on edge.

A snort from Hermione dragged everyone’s attention to her.  “Oh, please.  I’m sure it was ever so difficult to get on this team.  Two second years got on?  I don’t even follow the sport and to me that seems like anyone with half a brain could get on.”

The entirety of the Slytherin Quidditch team, Harry included, bristled at her words, but none more than Nott, who surged forward angrily.  “Like anyone cares what the Mudblood has to say!  Go back to your filthy tower where you belong!”

Anxious hissing filled the field, as everyone reacted to Nott’s words.  Hermione went utterly white, and a few angry calls made their way out of the Gryffindor player’s mouths.  The twins made to pounce on Nott, and Flint took a few steps away from him, apparently taking on the policy of ‘He’s not on my team, he’s not my problem.’  Nott scrambled back and avoided being flattened,  but still ended up staring down the business end of Ron’s wand.  From up close, Harry could tell the thing was ancient, and small fractures were running up it’s sides.

Absolutely furious, Ron more snarled than spoke any sort of spell.  “You’ll pay for that!”  Bubbled out of him, and he jerked his hand.  Green coloured magic coursed through it, and then lashed out in all directions.  Only Ron was close enough to feel any effects, and he bent over at the stomach, an awful noise escaping from him.

A few members of the team laughed, but they quickly fell silent as Harry ran over to Ron, followed by a reluctant Draco.  Nott took the opportunity to make his retreat, looking pale and even more furious than ever.

“Are you alright?”  Neville asked the redhead softly, rubbing his back soothingly.  Ron tried to answer, but when he opened his mouth a mouthful of slugs fell out.

Ignoring the disgusted sounds the other students were making, Harry slipped an arm under Ron, and was quickly joined by Neville.  “Let’s take him to Hagrid’s - it’s right over there.”  The two of them maneuvered Ron between them, trailed by a still shocked Hermione and a somewhat awkward looking Draco.

Flint smacked his broom into the palm of his hands, looking irritated.  “Where do you think you’re going?”  He called.

Green eyes gazed back, clearly irritated.  He stared for a moment, letting Flint make a decision.  The boy had spent the entirety of last year calling him their ‘secret, new weapon’.  If he wanted to kick Harry of the team for this, then it was his own loss.  And if he didn’t get rid of Harry, he certainly couldn’t knock off Draco.  Finally the older boy growled, but nodded, and Harry turned his back on him and concentrated on getting to Hagrid’s.

As they managed to get Ron into Hagrid’s and get him bent over a bucket, Harry eased into a seat next to Neville.  “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”  Harry offered his gloved hand.  “Harry Potter.”

Neville eyed Harry’s hand and then looked to Harry’s face.  Slowly he rose his own hand and closed it around Harry’s.  “Neville Longbottom.”

“Well, now that tha’ ‘s settled, who was Ron tryin’ ta curse?” 

Harry frowned.  “Nott.  He...”  Harry’s mouth twisted up.  “He called Hermione something.”

“He called Granger a...”  Draco hesitated a moment, his voice low.  “A Mudblood.”

Hermione twitched and her hands wrapped around the large mug of tea Hagrid had placed before her. 

“He did no’.”  Hagrid gaped.

“What’s a Mudblood?”  Harry asked looking over the room at the solemn faces.

“It means dirtied blood, it’s a really foul name for someone who has non-magic parents - like me.”

Harry’s mouth fell into an “o” and he looked at Draco, who was studying his feet.  Draco finally looked up,  His mouth was twisted up in thought.  “Well... Nott doesn’t speak for all of Slytherin.  I may not like you very much, but you’re a pretty damn good witch.” 

Hermione blinked at Draco before colour invaded her cheeks.  “T-thank you, Malfoy.”

Harry felt pride well up in his chest at Draco’s actions. That had taken a lot of courage.  And while Draco still had a ways to go, this was definitely on the right track.  He bumped his shoulder against his friend’s and Draco shot him a confused look, before smiling a little sheepishly and shoving him.

“Come off it, Potter.”

“I’m proud of you.”

“Shut up.”

“Never!” 

They traded a few light, smacking blows while Neville and Hermione exchanged looks and in the corner near the fire Ron turned green and vomited up slugs. 

Harry gave a cry as he hit the floor, Draco kneeing him in the spine and tugging at his hair.  He flailed his arm around before managing to slap Draco in the eye.  Draco yelped and fell on the floor beside Harry.  The two Slytherins stared up at the baffled faces of the other occupants of the hut and grinned. 

“Well,” Hagrid finally said.  “Tell you wot.  You lot have advanced Slytherin-Gryffindor relations pretty far forward.  An’ that’s the truth.”

Harry beamed upside down at Hagrid.  He shifted a little before hitting Draco hard in the gut, giving a satisfied sigh at the groan of pain it earned him. 

Pioneers of a new age.


	5. Darkness and Duels

A few weeks later, Harry quietly fuming as he scratched yet another address onto yet another envelope.  He hadn’t been able to avoid Lockhart’s attempts to ‘show him the ropes’ for long after all, even with Professor Snape lending aid in the form of excuses.

“Don’t worry, lad.  I’m sure it seems awful now, but you needn’t fret at all.  This is the sort of personal touch the public really loves, and you quickly get used to it.”  He nodded at Harry, as though revealing a great secret.  “There are quills who do this sort of thing, yes, but those just feel so impersonal!  A real celebrity knows how to make each and every fan feel warmed and love, wouldn’t you agree?  Of course you would!”  Lockhart chuckled, and Harry pressed down hard enough to leave a splotch on the parchment.  He glared at it like it was at fault, and then grabbed a clean envelope and began the address again.

Meanwhile, Lockhart continued on.  “Another little trick I’ve picked up - when people tell you their name, they don’t really expect you to remember it.  After all, celebrities hear so many names in a day!  Normally they’d be right, but I know a brilliant way of getting around that.  You just throw their name in a few seconds after you hear it.  It sounds like you remembered, and they feel happy for it, but you get to toss it out!  Brilliant, I must say.”

He turned to Harry, like he was expecting praise, and Harry nodded at him with a smile.  Judging by the way his mouth pulled, grimace might have been the better word, but Lockhart seemed to take it as a compliment, spewing facts about himself and more ‘tips’.

Harry was just about to finish his address to ‘Gudgeon, Gladys’ when a hissing sound seemed to cut straight through him to the bone.  The tone was like frozen venom, and Harry went still with the sort of prey instinct.

“ _Yessss.... Let me tear you.... Let me cut into your flesh... Let me taste your life blood..._ ” 

Harry jerked, and a long jagged line of lilac appeared across the envelope.  It dripped, the ink running down the parchment like horror movie blood, despite the colour, and Harry repressed the urge to shiver.  He glanced at Lockhart, who was still happily carrying on about his status and the joys it held, and narrowed his eyes.

So he didn’t hear it... Was he simply so much of an idiot that he didn’t notice strange things, or was Harry hearing things?

“Oh, look at the time!”  Lockhart exclaimed, blinking in a way that was more like his eyelashes fluttering.  He turned wide, amused eyes onto Harry, as though sharing a great joke, and Harry gave him a deadpan stare in return.  “It’s nearly curfew!  Time flies when you’re having fun, I suppose.”  He gave the movie star chuckle again, but this time Harry was thinking too hard on the voice to mentally deride him for it.  “Go on then, lad.  Do try not to get into trouble on the way back.  Won’t look good to have marks on your record!”  

The door to the office opened and Harry rushed out, not even bothering to say good-bye.  If Lockhart had something to say about that, he was too far away to hear it.  Once out into the hallway, he remained there for a moment, panting.

“Harry?”  He looked further down the hallway to see Draco and Pansy making their way towards him.  They had probably come to collect him in case the ‘lesson’ went over curfew - he could see the corner of his invisibility cloak hanging out of Pansy’s bag.

Harry waved at him and walked over, but was interrupted.

“ _So hungry...  Rip... Tear... Blood, I want blood..._ ”

By this point, Draco had reached Harry, and opened his mouth to say something, but Harry raised a hand to stop him.  “Do you hear that?”  He asked, voice nearly a hiss.  But the blank stares he got only confirmed that only he was hearing the voices.

“Hear what?” Draco asked, and for a for a moment, Harry considered not telling them.  What if they thought he was crazy?

“ _Yes...Kill... I smell... Time to KILL..._ ”  The voice was growing faint, and Harry couldn’t help the shiver that went through him.  

Harry took off down the hallway, following the faint hisses he could hear.  Behind him, Pansy and Draco called after him and began to catch up.

They had their chance when Harry froze, standing in a thin puddle of water coming from a bathroom nearby.  On the wall next to the doorway was a message, written in what could only blood.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE

Next to the message, hanging from one of the torch holders, was Mrs. Norris, upside down and utterly stiff.

“Harry?”  Pansy asked, voice slightly watery, and Harry just shook his head in confusion.  

Before the three could go anywhere, a din of noise caught their attention, and a group of professors, being led by the oldest Weasley brother, who was saying something about his duty to report odd happenings, and how Myrtle had been going crazy.

The entire group froze when they saw the three Slytherins.  After a moment, Professor McGonagall nodded to the Gryffindor Prefect.  “Thank you, Mr. Weasley, we have it under control.”  The redhead nodded slightly before he took off down the hallway, eyes wide behind his glasses.

Harry realized that by tomorrow the whole school would know what the Prefect saw.  The thought did nothing to help the pit of anxiety developing in his stomach.

Professor Snape opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by Filch, who pushed his way forward, face red and eyes wild.  “My cat!  Mrs. Norris!  What did you do to her?”  He focused on the Slytherins, who flinched under his gaze.  Filch reached out at Harry, who was closest, hissing something with such fury he was unintelligible.  Before he could grab the boy, a hand reached out and grabbed the squib’s wrist.  

Filch whirled around, and ended up nearly nose to nose with Snape.   The caretaker opened his mouth, but the look in the professor’s eye turned dark and dangerous, and Filch leaned away from him, some of his anger melting into fright.  Finally, he was released, but he didn’t go after the students this time, instead rubbing his wrist and muttering darkly about revenge and the good old days of beatings.

Snape met Harry’s eyes for a moment, and Harry stared back with wide, frightened green eyes.  The idea that the professor might turn on him, like he did after the dragon incident, made Harry’s stomach drop faster and lower than it had all night.

The dark man turned, and eyed the Headmaster and other professors, who were either watching the confrontation or staring at horror at the message.  Dumbledore was doing the former, and met his Potion Master’s eyes.  “Headmaster, it is highly unlikely that these three had anything to do with this.  Petrification is magic beyond anything a second year can produce, not to mention the difficulty of obtaining blood.”

A twinkle entered the Headmaster’s eyes, and he nodded shortly.  “I agree, Severus.  In fact, would you take these three back to their dorms while we try to see if there’s anything to do for Mrs. Norris?”

“Very well, Headmaster.”  With that Snape ushered the three first years down the hallway.  The followed him, silent.  Once they were out of sight and hearing range, he spun to face them.  “What were you three doing up here so late to curfew?”

Harry blinked, and had the odd feeling like the ‘lesson’ from earlier was a days ago, rather than less than an hour passed.  “Professor Lockhart cornered me and asked if I would help him tonight.  I was addressing envelopes.”

Frowning, Snape narrowed his eyes.  “Lockhart’s office a good deal father down the hall, in the opposite direction of dungeons.  What were you doing  _there_?”

The memory of the hissing voice made Harry shudder, and Draco answered for him.  “Harry heard something, sir.  We went down the hallway to find out what it was, and found Mrs. Norris like that, and the message too.”

At this point they’d arrived at the dorms, and Snape nodded slowly at them.  He had a peculiar tightness around his mouth.  Slowly, Harry looked up to meet the man’s eyes, afraid of seeing what was there again.  Instead the professor lifted his hand and brushed against Harry’s shoulder in a way that might have been a pat or might have been an accidental touch.  But the tightness in the professor’s face lightened a bit, and so did the anxiety in Harry’s stomach.

He offered a weak smile at Snape, and then the three made their way to bed.

Harry wasn’t sure about Pansy and Draco, but he was not looking forward to tomorrow.

Surprisingly, the next day was very much ordinary.  They went to Transfiguration with the Gryffindors, which was more tense than usual but otherwise was passed turning things into other things.  Then they went to the library for some research on an essay before having to dash out into the rain for Herbology.  By the time they had gotten back into the castle and changed robes, it was time for lunch. 

Harry eased into his seat with hot chicken soup and stirred it slowly, taking slow spoonfuls to warm up his still slightly chilly body.  He looked up when a few stragglers from later classes joined the table.  They looked like hell.  Nott worst of all.  He looked like death warmed over - pale with dark circles under his eyes.  He dropped into place next to some older student and focused on eating slowly.

“What’s wrong with him?”  Harry asked after tearing off a bite of his roll and dragging it through the soup.  

Pansy looked over as she chewed on her sausage.  “Well, the weather is bad, that’d make anyone exhausted.”

Harry’s mouth quirked up and he laughed a little.  It was true.  “Hey, Nott...” 

Nott jumped in place and turned, looking at Harry with squinted eyes.  “What d’you want?”

“You alright?  You look a little peaky.”

“‘M fine.”  Nott rubbed a hand over his face.  “People are just talking about the Chamber of Secrets.  Some Gryffindors apparently talked about it in History of Magic.”

Harry frowned.  The Gryffindors knew?  How did... Harry’s mouth pulled into a frown as he remembered Percy.  The Prefect must have blabbed to everyone.  He tried to keep his face neutral.  “The what?”

Nott heaved out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.  Looking, for all the world, as if he could not comprehend Harry’s stupidity.  Finally he looked over.  “The Chamber of Secrets is supposedly a chamber within the castle that Salazar Slytherin built during his time at Hogwarts.  Many will say that the Chamber was built with bad intent, but it’s known amongst Slytherins as a place Slytherin spent time in to concoct potions and invent more dangerous spells.  The legend says that Slytherin, after being angered that the other three founders wanted to allow in Muggle-borns and thus risk exposing magic to the magic-fearing, witch-burning population at large, he left.  It is said he placed a creature within the Chamber to protect it, and Hogwarts, from ever being discovered to those with ill intent.  A creature that would rid the school of those having Muggle blood to prevent the secret from escaping.”  Nott rose his shoulders up in a shrug.  “It’s just a legend, however.  No one has ever found it.”

Harry nodded his head slowly.  “So... It’s just a story then?”

“Well...” Millicent started, lowering her fork back to her plate.  “It’s dangerous because if the story is true - and that’s a pretty far if - then the Heir of Slytherin - someone legend says would follow Slytherin’s line and avenge him, is the only person who can control whatever is in the Chamber.  So, if the Heir is someone with true diabolical intent, it’s possible that  _no one_ , regardless of blood status, is safe.”

Harry frowned.  “What is it?  This... creature?”

“No one knows.”  Nott took a long sip of pumpkin juice.  “But I bet it’s something right scary, like a vampiric troll.”

Harry turned back to his food, listening as other people started breaking out into whispered debates about what possible creature was in the Chamber.  Harry took a slurp of his soup glumly.  The event with Mrs. Norris and the writing on the wall was probably someone having it on.  An older student who thought it would be a hilarious way to wind everyone up.  

The rest of the day was filled with hushed talks during class and by the time dinner rolled around the whole school was whispering about the Chamber of Secrets.  After dinner had finished, Dumbledore made an announcement that all those who wished it, could stay behind for a lesson in Duelling.  Just in case.  So they were sent back to their Common Rooms buzzing about the talk of Duelling while the Great Hall was set up for them.  Under an hour later, they were all back.

Students lined up on either side of a long platform and Lockhart, the great ponce that he was, was parading around on top of it to the delighted gasps of much of the female population.  Harry just laughed into his hand and elbowed Draco as they watched him move up and down the platform as if heading a royal parade.  Finally Lockhart was talking about how Dumbledore was so gracious for accepting his idea of starting the Duelling Club before he was calling out Snape to help him. 

Harry watched, enraptured, as Snape and Lockhart met in the middle of the platform, rose their wands, lowered them, bowed to each other and then rounded about twenty paces down opposite ends of the platform.  Lockhart counted to three and seconds after reaching the number was launched back and hit the platform hard, much to the laughter and whoops of the Slytherins.  Snape and Lockhart bantered for a while before Lockhart was suggesting some students try.

“Potter and... How about you, Mr. Weasley?”

“Weasley’s wand is in severe disrepair, I would rather not have to drag a curse broken Potter to the Hospital Wing, thank you.”  Snape’s eyes turned from Ron’s fallen face to look at the gaggle of Slytherins.  “Malfoy, you and Potter.”

Harry and Draco looked at each other before grinning and pushing their way up to the platform.  They climbed on and Lockhart was saying they should cast for disarm and non-harming spells only.  Harry barely repressed a groan.  That was  _boring_!  He gave a half-nod and rose his wand to the ready before bowing to Draco and turning in place and took on his stance.  Wand arm outstretched, tight to his body, his free hand above his head.  Whereas Draco - always on the offensive - rose his wand high and arching over his head and fisted his free hand. 

Lockhart counted down from three, Harry barely heard two before there was a loud cry  and he was sent sprawling across the platform.  Cheat!  Harry pushed himself up, annoyed and slashed his wand.  

“ _Flippendo_!”

Draco spiralled back through the air and slammed hard on his side.  He didn’t even bother getting up.  “ _Tenebrae_!” 

The large, electric blue jet hit Harry dead on and he let out a cry, dropping his wand a moment and pressed his hands flat against his eyes under his glasses.  They were watering terribly and hurt.  He groped on the floor for his wand and swung up.  “ _Stupefy_!”

There was a sizzle and Draco dove at the floor, the stupefy was ended by Snape so it wouldn’t hit another student and Draco charged up.  His pulse quickening and breath coming faster.  They were doing good!  His mouth twisted up into a smirk as Harry shook his head one final time to clear it of the fuzz before sending a grin at Draco.  Draco thought a moment and then spun his wand in a circle before stabbing it towards Harry. 

“ _Impedamenta_!”

Harry dodged the spell and turned in place just in time to see it hit Lockhart and send him flying.  Harry laughed a little.  Idiot.  He rounded again only to be hit full on by a spell he hadn’t even heard Draco cast.  Harry slammed back into the platform, his legs bound together and he sent a glare towards Draco.  Who used a leg locking curse in a duel!?  

“ _Finite_!”  Harry stood slowly, panting hard.  If Draco was going to play dirty, then so was he.  Harry’s mouth twisted up as he thought.  He pushed to recall the spells from the duel that summer and finally he gripped his wand tighter and let the feeling build before making a quick swipe with his arm.  “ _Ferio_!”

The dark purple jet of light slammed against Draco and he stumbled back.  When Draco turned his head, his mouth was bloodied and he pressed his fingers against his mouth and drew them away in shock. 

“Potter! I said non-harming spells only!”

Draco’s mouth moved into a smirk which somehow looked more sinister with blood dripping down the side of his chin and staining some of his teeth.  He slashed.  “ _Serpentsortia_!”

A writhing black cobra was the last thing Harry expected.  He stared at it as it lapped at the air, tasting and smelling before winding it’s way forward.  Several students against the platform back away in fear and Harry swallowed as he looked at the snake.

“Don’t move, Potter,” Snape drawled, stepping forward, “I’ll get rid of it for you.”

Lockhart brushed Snape away and was twirling his wand.  The snake launched up in the air before hitting the platform again, in tact, and more agitated than ever.  Harry watched as the cobra slithered towards the edge of the platform and rose up, flaring out it’s hood.  A group of students were standing back, but the snake was interested in one - a Hufflepuff boy.

The snake reared back and made to strike.

“ ** _No!_** ”  Harry managed, it burst out of his throat before he could stop himself and some people turned to gawk at him.  The snake swiveled and looked at him interestedly.  Then looked back at the boy.  “ ** _I said no!  Leave him._** ”  The cobra moved and swung round to move towards Harry.  Harry smiled faintly, glad he had draw the snake away from hurting anyone. 

Snape stepped forward and said something before the snake was gone.  A sudden wall of sound hit Harry, as if when he had been reprimanding the snake nothing else existed.  He stumbled a little on his feet and blinked his eyes before shaking his head lightly.  He felt slightly dizzy.  

“What are you playing at?”

Harry turned to look at the boy, who was pallid and wide-eyed.  Everyone else was staring at him too.  He swallowed thickly and looked to Snape for guidance.  He had helped, hadn’t he?  Snape however, was looking at Harry with a mixture of emotions and behind him, even Draco was stunned. 

What had he done wrong?

Harry spun in place, as though the answer would be written on the face of one of his peers.  From the crowd, he could see Ron watching him with first wide, scared eyes, and then anger and betrayal.  Before Harry even begin to react to that, he turned away and began whispering furiously with Hermione and Neville, who cast looks between him and Draco.  

Feeling vaguely ill, he completed his turn.  Whatever shock had immobilized Snape had worn off, and the man was approaching him quickly, followed by a rapidly blinking Draco.  Harry opened is mouth to ask something - anything - that would clear up what was happening, but Snape caught his arm and practically dragged him off the stage and out the door.

The professor kept walking until they were a good distance away, and then pressed Harry against the stone wall, face twisting with anger.  Draco and Pansy appeared a second later, white faced.  

“Idiot boy!”  Snape snarled.  “What were you thinking keeping something like this from me?  And then showing off in front of the entire school like that?”  By the last word his voice had become a low hiss, and Harry shuddered lightly, before trying to yank his arm out of Snape’s grip, a bubble of panic rising in him.

After a few more unsuccessful tugs, he gave up trying to get free, and shouted back, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

A small shake from his arm banged his head lightly against the stone wall, and the panic grew slightly.  “Don’t play the fool with me, boy.”

“Harry, why didn’t you tell us you’re a Parselmouth?”  Pansy finally exclaimed, ignoring the fact that the professor whirled around and aimed his glare at her.  “We would have kept it secret, you know that!”

Finally, frustration and confusion got the better of him, and Harry slid down the wall slightly, hanging his head.  “What in Merlin’s name is a Parselmouth?”

A small silence filled the air, before Snape released his breath slowly.  “You don’t know.  Of course he doesn’t know.”  The hand released his arms, and Harry grabbed the sore spot but otherwise stayed perfectly still.

Draco cleared his throat and made his way to lean next to Harry, their shoulders very nearly brushing.  “Parselmouths can talk to snakes, like you did.  It’s a really rare talent.”

Voice gruff, Harry responded, “So what?  It’s not a big deal.  I scared my cousin with a snake once, and then I told this one not to attack the Hufflepuff boy.”

“That’s what you were saying?”  Pansy asked.

Frowning, Harry nodded slightly, beginning to pick his head up.  “Yeah, of course.  I said ‘stop’ didn’t I?”

The shoulder beside him slipped closer, so they pressed together slightly.  Apparently his viciousness from the duel was forgiven.  It’d better have been - the snake thing was worse than a little big of bleeding from the mouth.  “We couldn’t tell.”  Draco responded.  “All we heard was Parseltounge - that’s what the language is called - which just sounds like hissing.”

“Weird.  It sounds like English to me.”  Harry replied.  “So why did everyone freak out, then?  It’s just a language, if a kind of weird one.  And one I didn’t know I could speak.”  That bothered him quite a lot, but now wasn’t the time.

There was a quick moment of silence, and Harry began bracing himself.  No way it was going to be good thing.  “The ability to speak to snakes has long been considered a Dark trait, Mr. Potter.  Salazar Slytherin had the ability, as well as the Dark Lord.”

Harry sighed.  “Of course it is.”  After a moment, he groaned.  “Oh, Merlin.  Everyone is going to think I’m the Heir now, aren’t they?”  Pansy and Draco froze, clearly not having thought so far ahead - and why should they?  They weren’t quite so used to being in the public eye.  Snape, on the other hand, nodded curtly.

“I imagine so, Mr. Potter.  I would be on your guard.”   Finally, Harry looked the man in the eye, and saw the faintest hints of an apology there.  He rubbed his arm slightly, and saw the look increase just a tad.  He gave a small nod to the professor, who jerked his head in return.

There was another long minute of silence, as each person thought ahead to the next day.  Finally, Pansy ducked forward and took Harry’s arm.  With a yank she led him down the hall towards the dungeons.  “C’mon, let’s go do something fun and forget about what the idiots will say.  You know how everyone is - they’ll be on it for a week and then I’ll make up a rumor and they’re all on that instead.”

Harry directed a small, thankful smile, which she returned.  On his other side, Draco caught up and the walked purposefully, and Harry could see him gripping his wand.  The blonde sent him a grin, and bumped their shoulders again, which knocked him into Pansy, who shrieked and scowled at Draco.  The smaller boy’s smile grew slightly, and he glanced back at Snape, he was trailing behind them like a protective shadow.  

Tomorrow was going to suck, but it wouldn’t kill him.  Not when he had these people with him.

The next day - which happened to be a Saturday - was horrible.  Harry spent most of the morning at breakfast glumly staring at his plate.  Every so often the Hufflepuff table behind his back would burst into whispers and he would hear his name.  He would glance over and they would gasp and stare before huddling back together and whispering some more. 

“Say something in Parseltongue,” Draco goaded, grinning as he finished his toast.  “Give them a right scare.  Serves them for being stupid.”

Harry just gave a quiet groan and shut his eyes.  He just wanted people to leave him alone.  “I’m not hungry.  I’m going back to Common Room.”

Pansy looked at him sympathetically and nodded her head and patted his hand.  “I’ll bring you a banana.”

Harry gave her a wan smile and shoved up from the table.  The walk back down the long hall was desolate and quiet as people turned to stare at him as he walked past their table.  Harry shoved his hands in the pockets of his robes and kept his head down.  Finally he slipped into the hallway and made his way back into the Common Room.  He dropped onto a couch and turned onto his side.  He pillowed his head under his arms and fell asleep.

“Harry, get up.  You’ve slept almost through to lunch.”

Harry rolled onto his back and blinked up at Pansy, who pushed him up the couch and draped herself over him.  “Don’t let them get to you Harry.  You just need to keep your head up and start hissing at people.”

Harry laughed a little and petted her hair when she wiggled against him.  She and Draco were so similar in some ways.  He nuzzled into her, still hazed from sleep and warm.  “I don’t want people to hate me, Pans.”

Pansy hummed and scratched at Harry’s neck before sighing into his shoulder.  “Some people are always go to hate you, Harry.  Whether it be because you’re Harry Potter, or because you’re a Slytherin, or because you’re a half-blood, or because you’re a parselmouth, or even because you like jam instead of peanut butter.  What you need to do, is play it up.  Act the role they give to you.  Take advantage of their fear or their pity or their reverence.  Turn it into respect.”

Harry hummed a little before blowing some of Pansy’s hair out of his face.  “It just seems like a lot of work.”

“But the pay off is worth it.”

Harry parted Pansy’s hair at the sound of Draco’s voice and grinned over at him.  “‘Lo.  Seems I’ve got myself a parasite.”

“Seems so,”  Draco acknowledge.  “I recommend leaving it.  Otherwise it shrieks terribly and clings harder and sometimes uses teeth.”

“I would hex the both of you,”  Pansy’s muffled voice sounded, “but I seem to be unable to feel my arm.  Also, I’m comfortable.”  Pansy wriggled a little and managed to slip one shoe loose on her foot and kicked it in Draco’s direction.  It fell on the floor with a thump no where near him and Pansy burst into giggles.

Harry laughed along with her.  His body shaking with her laughter and his own.  He was certainly feeling much better than he had that morning.  Finally Pansy sat up, her bobbed hair flying in every direction and Harry tilted his head.  “That’s attractive.”

“Shove off.”  Pansy smacked Harry with a cushion and bounced on his knees in retaliation before standing.  “Let’s go to lunch, if we get there early enough maybe we can avoid an inquisition.”

Harry stood after Pansy slid off of him and stretched.  “Alright.”  His stomach rumbled and he grinned sheepishly.  Missing breakfast had made him hungry.  They made their way into the dungeons and up the stairs before Harry stopped short and a flurry of red and gold.  “Heya, Ron.”  
The redhead whirled around at their words, his arms laden with a few more uncommon potions ingredients.  He looked down at his haul, and then back up at Harry, as though afraid he’d steal them.  “What’d you want?” He snarled, and took a step backward.

Swallowing, Harry stared at the other boy for a moment.  Ron had reacted badly at the Duelling Club, he he hadn’t thought it would carry on.  He’d thought they were friends.  “I...I was just saying ‘hi’.”  He managed, but then squared his shoulders as a thought hit him.

How dare the other boy judge him?  He knew Harry!  They were the only set of Gryffindors and Slytherins who got along,  If he was this quick to turn on him, then why should Harry put up with him?  Hurt and anger mixing together in his chest, Harry tilted his head up, imitating Draco at his worst.  “ I shouldn’t have bothered, I guess.”

A flash of pain appeared in Rons eyes, which only made Harry angrier.  So it was okay for Ron to be a jerk, but he couldn't take it?  “I guess you shouldn’t, same way I shouldn’t have thought were different.  Had me fooled, didn’t you?

Before he’d thought the words out, Harry snarled back, “Well, that’s not hard, is it?”  Ron made a furious choked off noise, and looked ready to start screaming when Neville appeared down the hall.  He froze in terror at the sight of Harry, and the dark-haired boy sent a furious glare his way.  Neville flinched, and then motioned at Ron to come on, refusing to come closer.  Harry swallowed back the urge to cry, instead doing his best to look like their reactions were too below him to even bother feeling bad about them.

With one last glare, Ron turned and followed after Neville.  The idea of them running like cowards just made his frustration worse, and Harry concentrated for a moment on how it’d felt when he spoke to the snake, and then shouted after then, “ _That’s right, run away_!”  It came out as a hiss, and both boy’s jumped, and Neville squeaked.  Then the both of them booked it like the hounds of hell were after them.

As Harry calmed, he found that his hands were shaking, and he turned around to look at Draco and Pansy, who looked torn between sympathetic and furious.  Slowly, he clenched his traitorous hands and lowered his head.  A shaky breath, just one step above a sob escaped him, and Pansy lunged forward to hug him, followed by a one armed embrace from Draco.  They stayed like that for a moment while Harry collected himself, and then they slipped into the Great Hall for lunch.

Now that he had a new, effective weapon against the people who wanted to confront him, Harry, Draco and Pansy quickly found themselves separated from the rest of the Slytherins by at least a seat.  At least his fellow Housemates didn’t seem to be quite as afraid - most of them looked outright respectful.  The rest of the houses, however, were whispering amongst each other, casting either fearful or angry looks at the group.

Harry quickly found that everything he put in his mouth tasted like ash, and he wondered if it was his out of control emotions or some sort of spell that created the effect.  Still, used to eating worse things, he managed to eat enough to keep him settled for the rest of the day, and then stood.  Pansy and Draco followed, managing to keep their masks in place, despite the fact that both had a sort of wild look in their eyes, like they’d like to start cursing everyone and not stop still the Hall was silent.

For a moment Harry considered going back to the dorms, but the respectful glances were almost as annoying as the scared ones, and so instead he went out to the grounds towards Hagrid’s hut.  His stomach tightened at the idea of Hagrid turning on him too, but if he had to find out, better to do it now when he’d start yelling instead of crying.

The huge man was frowning at a dead chicken that was hanging from one meaty hand.  “Darn things just stay alive, can they?”  He mumbled.  When he saw the children coming, however, he brightened.  “‘Lo, there!  ‘Ow’re you three doin’ today?”

Relief shot through Harry, and he shrugged slightly.  Hagrid’s eyes jumped behind him at Draco and Pansy, and they must have communicated something to him, because his dark eyes grew concerned, and he quickly invited them inside and made them some tea.

Harry stayed quiet for a while, letting the other three exchange pleasantries, before Hagrid turned and patted him on the shoulder, nearly tipping him and the chair over.  “Don’t ye even worry about it, ‘Arry.  It’ll pass, it always does.”  He paused.  “Assumin’ you aren’t the ‘Eir, that is.”  Hagrid leveled a serious gaze at Harry, and rapidly shaken head was his answer.  “Well then you’ve got nuthin’ to worry ‘bout.”

Warmed, Harry nodded slightly, then changed the subject.  “What happened to your chicken?”  He asked. The look on Hagrid’s face made Harry think the huge man knew what he was doing, but he obliged.

“Second one this term, I tell you.  Dunno what it is - maybe some foxes from the Forest, but I can’t say fer sure.”  He heaved a great sigh.  “I’ll just ‘ave to ask Dumbledore ‘bout gettin’ another one.  Just wish a knew what was going on, is all.”

They kept up conversation until well into the afternoon, until Hagrid finally set them off so they wouldn’t miss their curfew.  The three made their way through the mostly empty hallways until they entered the dorm.

The Common Room immediately silenced, and every eye was locked on Harry. The silence was eerie, and only broken by the faint watery sounds coming from the windows.  Harry closed his eyes, his gut churning.  Something had to have happened.

“Well, out with it then.”  Draco demanded from behind him, arms crossed and looking every bit the Malfoy heir.

For a while, there was silence, and then Blaise spoke up.  “There’s been an attack.  Finch-Fletchley and the Gryffindor ghost have both been Petrified, like Mrs. Norris.”  It took Harry a moment to connect the name with the Hufflepuff boy this had all started because, and in that time, whispering began to break out.  For a heartbeat, Harry remained perfectly still before he dashed up the stairs to his dorm, followed by Draco.  Pansy gave a thankful smile to Blaise before going up the stairs after them.

“You can’t be up here,”  Harry groused at her as he dropped onto his bed.  It wasn’t a strictly enforced rule, and there was certainly no wards in place, but usually the girls stayed on the main level and away from the boys.  

“Can too.”  Pansy looked around the boys room before noticing dirty socks over by somone’s bed and crinkled her noise.  “Disgusting.”

“Well, not all of us believe in hygiene.”  Harry grinned at her, but it was weak. “Well, it can’t have been me, I was with you two and Hagrid.”

Draco nodded furiously.  “And Hagrid is close with Dumbledore, so he’ll take his word.”  Draco flopped down on his bed looking thoughtful.  “That’s weird though, about his chickens.  Dunno why but it seems familiar...”  Draco tapped his forefinger and middle finger on his chin.  “It’ll come to me.”

“What do you suppose Weasley and Longbottom were doing?”  Pansy questioned as she laid out on Harry’s bed, starfished.  “They seemed awfully suspicious.”

Harry grunted and kicked Pansy to the side as he laid out beside her.  “Maybe trying to catch up on remedial potions.”

Pansy laughed, it was high and throaty.  “Right!  Because they care so much.” 

Harry shrugged again.  “I need to sleep.  Quidditch against Ravenclaw tomorrow.” 

Pansy shot Harry a look.  “You need to sleep at three o’clock in the afternoon?”

Harry looked over at her and shoved a hand into her face, making her squeak and squirm before she toppled over the side of the bed.  Harry shifted over the bed and sprawled out, grinning at the look Pansy shot him.  She huffed and tossed her nose in the air before letting out a war cry and launching herself onto Draco’s bed.  Draco gave a rather undignified screech and flew off of his bed just as Pansy flopped onto it on her stomach.  She bounced a little with the impact and rolled over onto her back.

“Oooo, Draco, how scandalous.  Pictures of witches on your bed top.”

“What?”  Harry moved up, curious and ducked under the post to look at Pansy.  “You liar!  There’s nothing there.”  

“‘Course there isn’t!”  Pansy laughed.  “I was just distracting you so Draco could take your bed.”

Harry whirled, and sure enough, Draco was splayed out on Harry’s bed, grinning like the cat that got the canary.  Harry growled and whipped out a pillow from under Pansy and smacked her in the face with it.  She spluttered before picking up the second pillow and smacking Harry in the side.  Then they both looked at Draco and attacked.  It devolved from there.


	6. Preparations and Vacations

“We’re definitely gonna win this match.  I’ve been training you up well and we’ve got a bunch of new strategies.” 

“Plus,”  Millicent said, smacking Harry on the back and sending him stumbling a bit.  “We’ve got Potter.  All the Ravenclaws won’t go near him.  You should stay near the goals, Potter.  Glare at the chasers as they come your way and start hissing.  They’ll fly off in terror.”

Harry shot her an uneasy smile as they walked onto the pitch to the roar of the crowd.  Seconds before they mounted,  Snape moved in, his robes billowing in the strong wind.  

“Today’s match has been canceled.”

“Rubbish!”  Flint spat, his eyes wild.  “We’ve been training for weeks.  You can just cancel on a whim!”

Snape’s eyes were hard when he looked at Flint. “I can assure you, Mr. Flint, that this match has not been canceled for nothing.”

Harry swallowed thickly, when he spoke, his voice was slightly uneven.  “What happened, Professor?”

Snape looked at Harry.  Harry blinked and stared back.  Snape finally sighed.  “Another student has been petrified.  You are to return to the dormitories and remain there until Dumbledore is satisfied the school is secure enough for you to go to lunch.”

As one they nodded and turned around.  Disheartened, they trooped down to the dungeons.  People whispered about an imposed curfew - he hoped not, he didn’t like the idea of being cooped up in the dungeons without the possibility to roam.  When they got there several students from the stands were already back.  Harry spotted Blaise almost instantly, his bright green jacket was a shock against his dark skin.  Beside him Pansy was still shivering.  Early December games were always the coldest.   Draco dropped easily down beside Blaise.

Harry plopped down beside them, laying so his back was lined up against Pansy’s.  She leaned back easily, and they manged to find a balance where neither was pressing the other down.  Draco watched them for a moment, waiting for them to perfect it, before pulling them back and making them both tumble sideways.  They landed on him, but instead of moving, the three just remained in a tangle.

Finally, Draco broke the silence.  “I can’t believe they canceled Quidditch.  Aren’t their laws against that?”

“There should be.  Remember when this castle used to be fun?”  Pansy asked, flinging the hand that wasn’t trapped under Harry up dramatically.  “Actually, things started to go downhill when you had that detention with Lockhart, Harry.  Let’s blame him.”

Nodding against the couch cushion, Draco eyed her.  “I agree, but I'm surprised you do.  I thought you liked him.”

Pansy kicked out at him, but only hit the pillow beside Harry.  “He’s very pretty, but it’s still his fault.”  She sighed.  “So very pretty...”

“And we’ve lost her again.”  Draco snarked, and Harry chortled, shifting his head so the side of it pressed against Draco’s shoulder, rather than his forehead.  

Sighing, Harry looked up at Draco, smiling a bit at the amusing angle.  “I have decided that without Quidditch, life is not worth living anymore.”

A cry of ‘hear-hear!’ came from somewhere beyond the couch.  It sounded suspiciously like Flint.

Harry tried to crane his neck to see him, but his lower body was tangled in Pansy’s so he gave up.  “Is there a nice, easy way of dying?  Like, some sort of spell that just makes people drop dead, with no pain.”

Silence answered him, even from the groups not that close to listen.  When it went on for a few minutes, Harry groaned and closed his eyes.  “I said one of those questions, didn’t I?”  A vague noise of agreement came from Pansy.  “Ignore me, then.  It was just a joke.”  After a few moments, conversation continued.

“If you’re done asking awkward questions, I think I’ll actually get something done.”  Draco leaned forward, which sending Harry toppling over onto Pansy, who grunted from the impact.  The blonde grabbed a Transfiguration book from the table in front of them and leaned back, not bothering to try and move the two on his lap.

Eventually, Harry and Pansy settled themselves so that Harry’s head was in Draco’s lap and he was spread out along the rest of the couch, with Pansy draped onto of him like a blanket, her head tucked under his chin.  He played with her hair for a bit - it was really silky, and felt nice when it played through his fingers.  If it didn’t smell so girly, he’d ask her if he could borrow her shampoo.  Hell, he was supposed to be the Heir.  He could smell girly if he wanted to.  When she woke he’d ask her for it.

After a few minutes of lounging, the door opened and Crabbe and Goyle were led in by a irritated looking upper year.  This was a fairly typical occurrence, and at first Harry payed it no mind.  But then the pair shuffled over to them and sat down at the couch across from them.  That was unusual - about the time Draco banished them from the compartment last year they had starting following Nott around instead.  Lately, the way Nott had been acting, they’d mostly seemed content to be with each other.

For a while the two just watched them with odd expressions.  Why, Harry wasn’t sure - this wasn’t exactly an odd situation for them.  Maybe they simply hadn’t noticed until now. It wasn’t a very nice thought, but neither of the boys were particularly bright, so it was a possibility.

“Err...” Crabbe began, looking nervous.  Harry started slightly.  He didn’t think he’d ever heard him say any actual words, just grunts.  “So...What d’you guys think?”

There was silence for a moment, before Draco realized they were talking to them and slowly lowered his book.  “What?  About Quidditch?  It’s criminal.  What about it?”

Crabbe nodded fervently, but Goyle elbowed him and he stopped.  “About the Heir,”  Goyle stepped in.

Groaning, Harry hid his face in Pansy’s hair.  She poked at him until he stopped squirming and then settled back down.  “Oh, Merlin, not this again.”

“What do you two want?”  Pansy finally picked her head back up and glared at them, but Harry could see a calculating gleam in her eyes.  She was confused by them too.

Crabbe held up his meaty hands in a calming pose, and Goyle blushed.  That was definitely a new one.  Harry didn’t think Goyle knew enough about social etiquette to be embarrassed when he’d broken it.  “Just wanted to know what you think, is all.”

As he spoke, his hair seemed to lighten just a shade.  On top of him, Pansy ducked her head down into his neck, and he felt her grin.  She’d figured it out, then.  A suspicion took hold in his mind, and Harry put on his best heartbroken face.  “I suppose you guys think it’s me too, then.”  He closed his eyes, as though his very heart hurt, and wondered if he could manage tears.

Goyle made a soft noise, and Crabbe regarded him with large eyes.  “...No, mate, I don’t.”  And that was all Harry needed.

Sniffling dramatically, Harry turned his head so he was pressed into Draco’s thigh, posing like he had been struck down.  Pansy started to shake slightly, and Draco’s grip on his book went white, though his face remained perfectly composed.  “It’s okay, go ahead and abandon me like everyone else.  Even my friends in Gryffindor, who I trusted and thought would stand by me as beloved comrades, think it’s me.”  Harry didn’t quite manage tears, as he’d hoped, but he did get his chin to wobble like Dudley’s before a tantrum.

This time Crabbe made a choked noise, and Goyle glanced at him.   He obviously noticed his changing appearance, because his eyes widened.  Crabbe’s did too a moment later, and they stood up hurriedly.  “We’ve got to go.”  Goyle gasped, and they dashed out the door, trying to look calm.

Finally the three of them broke out into laughter, and Pansy ended up toppling over.  Now freed, Harry got up.  “I’m going to go get them, guys.”  He ducked out the passageway and caught sight of them down the hall.  He knew the layout better, and snuck up easily behind them as they tried to figure out which hallway to take.  “Boo.”

The now restored Ron and Neville jumped, and whirled to look at them, eyes wide and frightened.  Now that it wasn’t because of his supposed status, Harry burst out laughing again, which gave the still snickering Pansy and Draco time to catch up.

“Yeah, laugh it up.”  Ron had gone red, and was scowling at him.  Neville simply looked nervous, but he calmed the longer Harry laughed.

Getting control of himself, Harry took a deep breath before letting it out slowly.  “I’m sorry, that was just so funny.  You guys are the worst Crabbe and Goyle ever.”  He snickered again.

Neville shrugged sheepishly.  “Yeah, well, we’ve never heard them talk before, so it was hard imitate.”

Behind him, Draco snorted.  “Exactly your problem, Longbottom.  They don’t talk.”  Neville looked nervous again, but he shrugged.

Now that Pansy had sobered up, he was looking vaguely menacing as she stared at them.  “Are you two still convinced that Harry is evil?”

“Not really,”  Ron replied, looking reluctant to say so.  “Though I was a lot more sure when you three weren’t laughing at us.  How much of that display was true, anyway?”

Harry grinned, not sorry in the least.  “A lot of it, actually, just said a bit more dramatically.”  His expression went serious.  “And I’m just as much angry that you’d turn on me than hurt.”

Before Ron could respond - probably to point out that he was a  _Parselmouth_ , for Merlin’s sake - Neville elbowed him and nodded.  “Sorry, Harry.”

Shrugging, Harry nodded.  “Just don’t pull it again, would you?  Anyway, where’s Hermione at?  She didn’t want to come?”

Ron frowned.  “She’s still back with...er...back where we were before.”

“Where the Polyjuice Potion is.”  Draco finished for him, and rolled his eyes at the boy’s expression.  “Honestly, it’s not a rare potion, just a somewhat difficult one.  Once you started changing back it was obvious.”

The redhead looked like he wanted to get into it with Draco, but Neville interrupted him.  “She’s back where we brewed it.”  He noticed the curious glances and shrugged. “The girls bathroom on the third floor.  The one with the girl ghost, Myrtle?  It’s abandoned, usually.  Anyway, something went wrong with her potion, so it’s just us.”

Pansy peered at them, her eyes narrowing.  “And just who was she going to be?”

For a moment Ron looked like he was going to tell her to stuff it, but he sighed and answered, “Millicent.”

Shrugging, Pansy waved a hand at them.  “That’s alright then.  So long as it wasn’t me.”

Beside her, Draco nodded.  “You lot might have actually had a chance if she’d been with you.  Just let her do the talking.”

“We’ll keep that in mind.”  Ron returned, before adding.  “Actually, we’d better get back to her and make sure she’s alright.”  The Gryffindors waved and turned around down the hall.  

Draco arched an eyebrow as they made their way.  Harry eyed him, automatically suspicious of that expression.  “What is it?”

For a moment, Draco didn’t respond, before he smirked.  It was not a nice expression.  “Millicent has a cat, doesn’t she?”

Pansy paused, and then started snickering.  She was joined by Draco after a moment.  Harry simply rolled his eyes at them.

“Maybe we should go after them...”  Harry ventured slowly.  He had finally calmed enough to speak.  “I mean, if she’s more cat than person, maybe she’ll claw at them.  It’ll be funny.” 

Pansy side-eyed him for a long moment.  “Technically it’s not curfew yet.  We  _could_  go.”

Draco was off and running up the staircase before either could stop him and Harry and Pansy rushed to catch him.  They hadn’t made it far before they found Ron and Neville guiding Hermione down the stairs.  The girl was practically in hysterics, half hidden under one of Ron’s extra robes.  

“Where are you going?”  Harry asked, stepping up a few steps and cringing. 

“Hospital, where else?”

Draco sighed and made a turning motion.  “Hospital moved.  It’s up on the fourth floor.  Come on, we’ll get you there and make sure to confound anyone who sees.”

Hermione stopped in her hysterics a moment and peered out with her strange eyes from under her cover.  “Thank you.”

Draco threw himself back, looking poised.  “Besides.  I want to see the look on Pomfrey’s face.”

They got Hermione to the Hospital without much of a fuss.  When Madame Pomfrey saw her she immediately set to fussing about.  Harry lingered a moment, watching as Madame Pomfrey closed Hermione behind a privacy partition   He looked to the other two closest to her office, where he was sure Justin and the other student there had been whispers about were behind those partitions.  Harry frowned and followed when Draco and Pansy called his name. 

The next day was the last of their classes and it went fairly smoothly.  Lockhart talked about himself a lot and taught them basically nothing.  Then came double potions, where they were working on a Hair-Raising Solution.  Halfway through the class Seamus Finnegan’s cauldron splashed on several students, and while it didn’t cause anyone’s hair to stand on end, it did cause several people to go to the Hospital Wing.  

As much as Harry hated to admit it, the explosion did cause some good.  By lunch half the school had stopped talking about the possibilities of him being the Heir and were talking about cat-Hermione.  Millicent, whom Harry and Pansy told was the actual target, found it quite funny.  She had taken to calling Hermione “Hecate” after her cat which made them all smile, because as bad as it was, it was also rather a fond thing for a Slytherin to do to a Gryffindor.  

After lunch they were given the rest of the day to pack and Harry packed some of his things before simply enjoying himself and reading the rest of one of his novels.  It was rather good.  It was about a witch who ended up cursed and had to live with Merpeople.  As he read he listened to people bustle about, calling out goodbyes or playing loud, destructive games of Exploding Snap.  

“Aren’t you supposed to be meeting with Professor Snape?”  

Harry looked up from his book.  “Yeah, at four.”

“It’s ten to four.”  Harry looked at Draco, puzzled before casting a tempus charm.  He widened his eyes.  “I’m going to be late.”

Draco chuckled as Harry tore through his things, grabbing his cauldron, book and potions ingredients before dashing out of the room with a quick - ta! 

“I can’t be late. Can’t be late!”  Harry skidded into the classroom with his armload of goods, panting.  “Am I late?”

Snape looked up from his parchment.  He looked bewildered a moment and then confused.  “No, Mr. Potter.  Take your seat.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief before seating himself, digging out the book and waiting for directions.  When he looked back up he found the professor still giving him an odd look.  “Sir?”

“Why is it so necessary that you get here on time?”  The professor asked him, eyes sharp.

Shrugging, Harry flipped idly through his book.  “‘Cause you always used to say ‘Be here at 2, Mr. Potter, don’t be late’ or something like that.  I figured you were really big on it, and I didn’t want to irritate you.”

He had expected that to be the end of it, but apparently something about his responses had caught Snape’s attention.   “And why is it so necessary not to irritate me?”

Harry frowned at him, surprised.  “Because you’re scary when you’re mad.”  He responded.  For some reason he began to feel a bit defensive, and shrugged again.  “And it’s not like you have to do this.  If you start to think it’s not worth it because I annoy you, you’ll stop offering this.  I learn a lot working with you and I’d like to keep going.  Sir.”  

For a moment, Snape stared at him, like he was an interesting puzzle, or a stubborn potion.  Harry didn’t appreciate the feeling.  “I hadn’t realized how much I harm I caused you when you were caught out of curfew a year ago.”

Hackles raised, Harry glared at him.  “I wasn’t damaged or anything!”  Almost immediately, he regretted the tone, but backing down would only prove the professor’s point.

“Not by me.  Or not by me alone.”  Snape murmured, almost to himself, and Harry nearly flinched back from the words.

“I’m not at all.”  Harry insisted, nearly through his teeth.  The look Snape was sending him was entirely too knowing, and he pushed the potions book forward a bit to catch his eye.   There was a moment where Snape seemed to consider continuing the conversation, but instead he nodded.  

A spidery hand flipped through the pages, settling on Humidity Elixir.  “This potion releases water into the air at a controlled rate, to moderate the amount of moisture.  It’s commonly used in Greenhouses, though those with sensitive skin may use to to help with the change in seasonal climate.  Because it is so water based, be careful not to overheat it, or it will lose it’s potency.”

“Yes, sir.”  And so Harry began brewing, making careful note of the professor’s suggestion, as well as ones he made about pouring technique and the timing of solid versus liquid ingredients.   It took nearly two hours, but eventually the potion was complete.

After Harry poured it into a vial, he handed it to Snape, he examined it critically.  “The colour is slightly too dark.  Why?”

Harry thought about it for a moment.  “Because I added too little water into the base solution?”  Snape nodded absently.  “Any other mistakes, sir?”

A few more turns of the vial passed before he answered.  “No, Mr. Potter, I believe that’s it.” 

Grinning, Harry began to pack up, but the sound of a clearing throat interrupted him.  “Mr. Potter...”  Snape paused, collecting his thoughts, and that happened rarely enough that it had Harry’s attention instantly.  “I do not believe I have expressed myself clearly about these sessions.  Or, to be more precise, I assumed you would understand this without my saying.”  

“Sir?”  Harry asked, his stomach dropping slightly.  Had all this talk of being damaged scared Snape off?

Something must have shone in Harry’s face, because Snape’s eyes tracked over him, before he continued, looking more sure of his words.  “Unless you wish to end them, I will not stop offering you these sessions.”

A gasp fought to escape him, and Harry was shaking his head no almost before he was aware of what he was doing.  “Don’t say that, professor.  You can’t tell what will happen in the future, and you don’t want to back yourself in a corner.”

Irritation flashed across Snape’s face, before something in his expression settled into something... not exactly warm, but certainly less harsh.  “I do not say this lightly, so do insult me by assuming I have not thought of the consequences of my offer.”  Harry nodded, swallowing.

There was silence for long enough that Harry thought he’d finished, before Snape opened his mouth again.  “It does not matter what you say or do, Mr. Potter.  You are still my student, and a promising one at that.  Unless there is some serious problem that causes us to be unable to work together, I will continue to the offer made aid to you.”  He swallowed and added.  “Even if you were to irritate me enough to be tempted to do so, I would not cast you out.  It would be highly unprofessional.”

Something about those words seemed to have cost Snape to say.  Harry was curious, but didn’t think he would get an answer, or even could understand it if he did.  “Yes, sir.”  He replied, voice soft.

The words hung in the air for a moment, before Snape seemed to snap out of whatever mood he’d been in.  “Very well.  I’m sure you have other plans for this afternoon.”

Harry nodded and packed up quickly, his heart pounding.  He wasn’t sure why, but something about the offer Snape had given to him - or rather explained in full for the first time - tugged at him.  It felt both frightening and comforting. 

Once his things were packed, Harry made it too the doorway before pausing.  He didn’t turn around, staring at the frame, but spoke.  “I... Thank you, Professor.”    Before the last syllable was out of his mouth, Harry darted out the door.  He thought those words had cost him something as well.

Already down the hallway, Harry didn’t hear his professor reply, “You are welcome, Harry.”  

Harry returned to the Common Room in a contented, yet puzzled mood.  As he packed, he mulled over his thoughts.  He would be getting up early the next morning to Floo to Diagon Alley so they could go to the Manor.  After doing it so often, Harry was quickly getting used to the feeling, but nothing could beat the feel of flying.  Stretching out on his bed, most of his essential things packed away, Harry looked around the room.  Crabbe must have gone while he was in Potions. His bed was neatly made up in a way that signified House-Elves rather than the signature ball at the foot of his bed Crabbe always left.  Draco’s things were already neatly packed away.  Nott’s bed was in disarray, Harry had heard he was staying at the school over the break.  He hoped Nott wouldn’t be too lonely.  He may not have liked the boy too much, but he knew the ache of being alone. 

After finishing his packing, Harry headed down to the Common Room once again.  He looked to see if anyone was around who wanted to play chess or exploding snap, before he decided to spend some time in the Library and maybe visit Hermione in the Hospital.  It wasn’t fair that she was going to have to spend her Christmas being de-catted. Harry headed off alone with determination.

~*~

The Manor was a welcome respite from the freezing cold outdoors when they arrived.  Harry was certain his fingers were frozen and that his toes were next.  When they Apparated into the Manor, Harry stood, shivering in front of the fire for a good ten minutes, trying to soak up the heat.  After he painfully regained feeling in his fingers, face and toes, he headed up to what he now considered his bedroom.  He changed out of his damp, chilly clothes into a pair of flannel sleep trousers and a warm hooded shirt.  It may not have been upscale, but it fought off the cold.  

“Here, have a bowl of soup, Master Harry, Dobby is making it special for you.”

Harry smiled at the little creature that appeared at his bedside, nudging the full bowl of soup and a roll onto his bedside table.  “Thank you, Dobby.”

“No need to thank me, sir.  It is Dobby’s duty.” 

Harry nodded absently and Dobby disappeared without another word.  Harry pulled the soup closer.  Beef barley.  He took a few spoonfuls, enjoying the way the soup almost scorched it’s way down into his stomach.  He was almost finished when Draco walked in without a bother to knock, a mug of steaming hot chocolate in his hands.  

“I see you’ve got your warm up present.”

“It’s too bloody cold out there to do anything.”

“Look at that, the famous Harry Potter, cursing.  Tsk tsk.”

Harry stuck his tongue out at Draco before finishing the last of his soup and sitting back on his bed against the plush pillows.  Draco slid into the other side and mimicked his pose.  They were quiet while Harry tore his roll apart and slowly fed it bit by bit into his mouth and ate it. 

“This kind of weather makes you want to curl up in bed with a good book.  One boy from my Primary, whenever it got cold like this his mother would make him fish and chips and put on  _The Wizard of Oz_  for him.”

“The Wizard of  _what_?”

Harry laughed a little at Draco’s face.  “Of Oz, it’s a film based off of a book.  It’s about this girl named Dorothy who goes to this fantastical place called Oz, she meets evil witches and good witches and has to find her way back home.  I watched it once in school when I was little.”

Draco’s face scrunched up in thought.  “That... I don’t know if I’d like that.  Muggles tend to think all witches are hags, and that’s just not true.”

Harry nodded slowly in agreement.  “Well, I guess it’s just their folklore tradition.  Like in Grimm’s Fairytales.”

“Oh, I read those once.  Horrible stuff.  Shoving witches into ovens.  Making old women dance in burning iron shoes.  Why on earth would you read things like that to a child?”

Harry opened his mouth to reply that it was a cultural difference, but simply closed his mouth.  It would be a useless argument.  Like the one he and Pansy had gotten into over religion.  He now knew better than to talk about it in front of pure blooded Wizarding people.  It would end in screaming and a couch being blown up and him being called a git and slapped across the face. 

No thank you.

“Well...”  Harry ventured slowly.  He was feeling languid and warm from the soup.  He had gotten up early and the cold had sapped his strength.  He slid over to Draco and pressed against his side easily.  “Why don’t you tell me a story?”

That got him an arched eyebrow.  “What kind of story?"

Shrugging, Harry nuzzled slightly as he tried to get into the most comfortable position.  “I dunno.  What stories do Wizarding kids hear before bed?”

Draco paused, thinking for a moment.  “Well, mostly stuff like  _Babbitty Rabbitty_  and the like.  There’s one called  _The Warlock’s Hairy Heart_  that my parents still won’t tell me that - sounds absolutely gruesome.”  The blonde glanced down at the dark locks below him.  “Uh... How about  _The Fountain of Fair Fortune_.  I like that one.”  The hair bobbed as Harry nodded, and so Draco settled down.  “Alright, then.  You see, there are these three witches.”

The other boy happily launched into the tale, gesturing with the hand that wasn’t pinned.  Harry found Draco’s voice to be pretty soothing, and combined with the warmth in his stomach and how tired he was, it turned into a sort of pleasant white noise.

When Harry next became aware, it was the next morning.  Hedwig was taping at the window of the guest room incessantly, which made it impossible for Harry to drift back to sleep.  The pillow underneath him started to shift, and he nearly jumped back in fright.  “Will someone shut that bloody bird up?”  Draco’s sleepy voice demanded, and Harry rolled his eyes beneath their lids.  

Eventually the noise became too much, and Harry dragged himself out of bed.  He was still on top of the covers, which helped.  Making his way over to the window, he braced himself for the cold winter air and opened it.  Hedwig flew in and landed on his shoulder, dropping the bundle of letters as she did so.  The snowy owl bit his ear lightly in rebuke for making her wait, and Harry murmured drowsy apologizes as he pet her.  

Once contented, Hedwig flew back out the window and Harry closed it as quickly as possible, happy to feel the house’s warming charms take over almost immediately.  Bending over, Harry grabbed the letters and began flipping through them.  They were all receipts for the various Christmas presents he had ordered this year.  He gave a sleepy grin before stuffing them into the drawer of the bedside table, knowing better than to leave a written notice of his gifts in front of Draco.  Then he crawled back into bed, laying his head contentedly on the still drowsing Malfoy Heir’s shoulders.  After a moment, a gray eye cracked open and glanced at the clock on the wall, before groaning.  “8 AM?   I hate your owl.”

Harry poked him in the side for that, finding it necessary to protect Hedwig’s honor, before he settled back down.  For a moment there was silence, before he looked up at the other boy.  “Shouldn’t this be weird?”

Gray eyes peered down at him.  “What should?  Sleeping?  I assure you, it’s a perfectly natural phenomenon.”

“No, I mean sleeping like this.”  He waved a vague hand at the two of them.  “Falling asleep all... I dunno, cuddled up I guess.”

Snorting, Draco jerked his shoulder, which made Harry’s head bob up and down.  “Muggles don’t have slumber parties?”

That made Harry bite his lip.  “Well, I didn’t, anyway.  Dudley did, but I was never allowed to join them or anything.”

There was a pause, before Draco mumbled, “I’m sorry.  That was kind of thick of me, wasn’t it?”

“I like it when you forget, though.  It’s like I’m normal.”  Harry responded.

Draco snorted.  “What do you want to be normal for?  Being special is so much better.”

Pausing, Harry considered this.  “But being normal means you’re not a freak.”

Expression still slightly rueful, Draco glanced down at him.  “Oh, please.  You’re not that special.  So if you’re a freak, then I’m one too.  ‘Sides, I like you this way.  If you change I’ll have to throw a fit.”

A grumble escaped Harry.  “Being the ‘Heir of Slytherin’ makes me pretty special from where I’m sitting.”  Draco’s shoulder jumped again, and Harry lashed out with his foot in revenge.  “But that makes sense, I guess.”  And it did.  For some reason, when Draco explained it like that, it didn’t seem quite so awful a thing to be.  Harry didn’t think the reassurance would last long once they got up, but for now it felt like some weight on him had...not fallen off, precisely, but maybe shifted into a more manageable position.  “And we wouldn’t want you to have one of your famous tantrums.”

“Precisely.”  Draco practically preened, and Harry thought about pointing out that it wasn’t a compliment, but figured it wasn’t worth the effort.

They stayed that way for a while, before Draco had to get up so they could change for breakfast.  They met at the stairs and made their way to the Dining Room, where they found Narcissa and Lucius bent over a long piece of parchment, scratching lines off as they watched.  “What’s that?”  Draco asked, craning his neck to peer at it as he sat, Harry settling down beside him.

Narcissa glanced up at them and gave a quick smile before returning her attention downwards.  “The guest list for Boxing Day, dear.”

That made Draco jerk his head up in excitement.  “Oh, right, we’re doing the party this year, aren’t we?”  Narcissa made an affirmative noise, and Draco grinned at Harry like he expected the smaller boy to be just as trilled.  When Harry only blinked at him, Draco blinked back before nodding slowly.  “Oh, you wouldn’t know, would you?  Every year someone holds this big fancy party that all the important people go to.  This year it’s our turn.”  Draco shrugged and picked up his utensils to cut into the french toast on his plate.  “They tend to be kinda boring at first, but you also get to meet some interesting people.  The Minister usually shows up, for one.  He’s fun - he sucks up to me to get on Father’s good side.”

From the other side of the table, Lucius made a quiet sound that maybe have been a cut off snort of laughter.  Harry glanced at him, before turning back to Draco.  “Is Pansy going to be there?”

“Of course.”  Draco replied, once he’d swallowed the food in his mouth.  “Her parents and brother will be there too.  Let’s see... Blaise’s mother is usually there with her husband... Uh, Nott’s father usually is, but since he’s staying at Hogwarts this year I figure he’s probably out and about somewhere and won’t be there.  Millicent and her family - that’d be her parents and older sister.”  He paused, thinking.  “A few other people, but nobody you’d recognize the name of, I think.  Oh!”  He turned to his parents.  “Are we inviting Professor Snape?”

Narcissa looked up and pursed her lips, before her eyes darted over to Harry.  She nodded slowly.  “We can.  I don’t know if he’ll accept, however.”  Slowly, her expression became thoughtful.  “Maybe we can invite a couple more people as well.”  She scribbled a name down at the end, and Lucius regarded it with a slight widening of his eyes but didn’t comment.  

For a while the family ate in silence, before Lucius’ eyes popped up and he regarded Harry with a dry look.  “I believe we will need to school Mr. Potter in some basic etiquette before we unleash him upon our guests.”

The remark made Harry colour, but Narcissa nodded and looked at him as well.  “That’s a good idea.  It wouldn’t be amiss to go over some lessons with Draco again.  It has been a long time since we went over these things.  A refresher never hurt.”  Draco looked grumpy at the idea, but nodded curtly.  “We’ll begin tomorrow, I think.”

After that they finished their meal in companionable silence, before the boys made their escape to enjoy the day.  It was the last one before lessons, after all - better get all the uninterrupted enjoyment in that they could. 

~*~  
The next afternoon after lunch came the etiquette lessons.  Harry watched as the table was set with a wide variety of utensils and dishes with wide eyes.  He gave a nervous swallow before taking his seat beside Draco.  Narcissa was standing behind them, quietly watching.  She stepped behind Harry’s chair and lightly prodded him into the correct posture.  

“Alright starting from your left, you have your napkin, main course fork, salad fork, your soup bowl and plate, which are on top of your dinner plate, your dinner knife, your soup spoon, above your spoon you have your water glass, to the left of that you have your desert fork and knife, and to the left of that is your bread plate, atop which is your butter knife.  Now, you must remember always take the butter from the dish and place it on the corner of your place.  Never directly on the bread.  It puts crumbs in the butter.”

Harry nodded, a little absently as he tried to recall everything.  “Alright.”

“Now, for dinner, we’ll be having lamb and roast potatoes with asparagus and runner beans.”

Harry nodded again.  He had never had lamb and didn’t even know what asparagus was, but he was pretty certain now was not the time for stupid questions. 

“First, as soon as you sit, you take your napkin and drape it in your lap.”  Narcissa waited for both Harry and Draco to do so.  “Lovely.  First we will be serving a leek cream soup, so you will get your soup, and you must remember, tip the bowl away from yourself to avoid spilling it all down your front.  You always take from the side of the spoon and never, under any circumstances, slurp your food.  When you are finished, or if you take a break in eating, set your spoon down on your soup plate, do not put it on the table and do not rest it half on the table, half on the dish, and do not leave it in the bowl.  This goes for all cutlery.  Draco, I know you know this, but I’m just telling Harry.”  Narcissa paused and squeezed Harry’s shoulder.  “Am I going too fast?”

Harry felt a little lost, but he shook his head.  “No, I think I’m alright.  So far it seems pretty straight forward.”

“Excellent.”  Narcissa nodded her head.  “Right, after soup comes the main course.  As I said before, it’s lamb.  It will be deboned, so you needn’t worry about bones on your plate.  I think you know how to eat a meal, so I’ll leave that be.  Oh!  If you take a drink, you must wipe your mouth first, it keeps the glasses from getting smudged.  Also, when eating bread, break it into pieces and butter each piece individually so you aren’t handling a great lump of bread.  After dinner comes salad to help us digest.  Again, I don’t think I need to bother with that.  After that is dessert.  We’ll be having sticky toffee pudding, it can be quite messy, so do take care.  After that will be coffee and tea, which we will have in the drawing room.  Then everyone will go home.”

Harry swallowed thickly and nodded again, feeling a bit repetitious.  He stood when Draco did and pushed his chair in quietly.  They moved through the living room, which is where Harry had spent most of his time, through a set of sliding doors into a large, well arranged second sitting room.  It was clearly more formal and dressed less comfortably.  There was a large fireplace with a painted portrait of the family, Draco looked about eight.  Harry had to smile slightly, Draco’s hair was longer, drawn back into a small ponytail at the base of his neck.  Beside the large fireplace and the centerpiece of the room was a piano. 

“Now, this room will be decorated accordingly of course.  We’ll have tasteful Christmas decorations, perhaps a tree.  Now, when addressing your elders, Draco, what do you say?”

“Men are always sir and women are always addressed by their title and their last name.  You never call them ma’am.  People our own age are called by their first name, along with younger family members.  Older family members are always Aunt or Uncle as well as their first name.”

Narcissa patted his shoulder and sifted her fingers through their hair.  “If Severus attends you may continue to call him Professor, as it is his title more than Mr, however, if you feel more comfortable, you may call him ‘sir’.”

Harry nodded his head.  That was quite easy to remember.  He could recall his aunt giving Dudley similar advice.  He was always polite when it came to people, so that wouldn’t be a problem.  He did, however, have a question.  “Should I call you Mrs. Malfoy, then?”

Narcissa nodded her head once, sharply.  “For the evening, while people are here, yes.”  She smiled and crossed to Harry.  “You’ll do well, dear.  Just remember, everyone makes mistakes and if you do, keep on going.  Just smile and be a charming young man and everyone will adore you.”  She squeezed the back of his neck affectionately before rubbing it lightly.  “Now, you and Draco run along, when the tailor arrives I’ll call you.”

Harry peered up at her quizzically.  “Tailor?”

“Yes, you need to be fitted for your dress robes.  This is a Wizarding event, you won’t be able to wear a suit and call it a day.”

Harry gave a shaky nod and offered her up a smile before following after Draco so they could play some cards.  Surely the games would relax him and help the overwhelming plethora of information in his brain sink in.  All he could do was his best and hope that he wouldn’t fail. 

It was only a few hours later when Harry and Draco were summoned.  They made their way back into the fancy family room from before.  Inside, Narcissa was exchanging pleasant greetings with the man who could only be the tailor; he was a short fellow, barely taller than the boys, and looked well on in years.  But he had a spring in his step and a warmth to his words when he spoke, and the handshake he shared with Harry was very enthusiastic, not because he was The Boy Who Lived, but because he seemed thrilled to have a new person to work on.

Once the pleasantries were finished, the man, named Bran Lyons, drew out his wand and gave a little flick.  From the bag on his shoulder flew several tape measures, and he smiled at the boys.  “Now, who is it that I’m measuring?”

“Both of them, I think.”  Narcissa answered, eyeing them.  When Draco started slightly, she arched an eyebrow at him.  “The ones Draco used last year will be slightly short now.  Something similar to that, but in a dark blue this time, perhaps.”  By this point she was mostly speaking to herself, but Mr. Lyons was nodding in agreement.  

Another flick of his wand sent two of the tape measures to each of the boys, which began whirling around them.  When each one stopped, the man took a roll of parchment and scribbled down a note.  Harry blinked, surprised to see him writing it himself and the man noticed his attention.  He waggled his quill a bit, grin somewhat wry.  “It’s a bit silly of me, but I don’t like letting the magic write it down.  If you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself, as they say.”  The tape measure settled on Harry’s shoulders, and he wrote it down with an exaggerated flourish, and then went to check on Draco.

It was a bit surprising, how through a job he did.  Harry find himself trying not to squirm as his inseam was measured, Mr. Lyons politely ignored his discomfort.  He had been fitted for clothes last winter, but it never failed to throw him off that they did measure places like his inner legs.  After all, they were robes - what did they need that measurement for, anyway?

When he was finally finished, Harry thought he would be allowed to go, but instead Narcissa ran her hand through his hair, and requested he take off his glasses.  The blurry shapes that were the adults began discussing colours and cuts - whatever those were - and Harry turned to look at Draco.  The other boy was indistinct, but Harry knew his body language well enough to be able to tell that he was trying not to laugh.  He sent the Malfoy Heir a look that promised retribution later, but Draco’s posture didn’t alter in the least.

Finally he was let go, and Mr. Lyons gave them all an goodbye that was just as enthusiastic as his greeting, and promised to have a finished product for both boys by the next day.  He left through the Floo, and was gone in a flash of green.

By that point, the dinner hour was fast approaching, so instead of being allowed to run off, the boys were ushered into the Dinning Room.  While the dinner was a fairly typical one - that is to say, it had only one course, but the food was still on the high end of the scale - the plates were set up like they would be at the party.  Clearly, Narcissa planned to test them on the etiquette lessons.

Harry tried not to gulp audibly.  He thought had it, but it had been so much information.  Draco, on the other hand, simply rolled his eyes and sat down at his spot, apparently used to this sort of treatment.  Sitting down beside the boy, his own posture tense.  

Food appeared on the plates, and the family began to eat.  Harry was hyper aware of the close attention Narcissa was paying to his and Draco’s actions, and that kept him from participating in the light conversation.

Once or twice he began to make a mistake - for example, he nearly took a bite out of the whole roll, rather than breaking a piece off - and when he did the force of Narcissa’s gazed increased.  Harry was reminded unpleasantly of Muggle laser beams.  As soon as he noticed the look, he quickly corrected the action, and got a small nod in return.

By the end of it, Harry felt like he might have a panic attack.  Really, it wasn’t so much about making the mistakes, but how the Malfoys would react when he did so.  For the most part, Harry  _knew_  that he would simply get corrected, and that life would go on.  But some small part of him was remembering his aunt and uncle’s sneers from the summer, as he hurriedly ate a piece of toast over the sink.

Finally they finished their meal.  Harry set down his silverware on the plate, facing forward, as the Malfoys were doing.  Clearly that was some kind of signal, because once he lifted his hands the plate disappeared with a quiet crack.  Distantly, Harry wondered if the House-elves were also practicing for Boxing Day.

A tap on his shoulder startled him,and Harry looked up to see Draco give him a small smile and a thumbs up under the table.  Smiling back, Harry chanced a look at Narcissa.  “Well done, Harry.”  She said quietly, and gave him a warm look.

“Thanks.  Er, I mean, thank you very much.”  He ducked his head, pleased.  The little part of him that was freaking out gave a sigh of relief, and faded just a bit.

The next day, bright and early, Mr. Lyons returned the manor, a large package following behind him.  A quick series of charms unpacked the dress robes, which flew over to Draco and Harry and hovered and moved in the right ways to help them slip over their clothes, and a full length mirror set itself up in front of them.

Harry rather liked Draco’s robes, which were a dark blue with accents in a light storm grey.  They flowed off him, shifting slightly as he moved, and if Draco’s hair hadn’t been sticking up ever so slightly in the back due to being dragged out of bed, the effect would have been very regal.  

The robes Harry wore a pitch black, with tiny designs in gold and a bright green along the sleeves and bottom.  He thought he looked like a bit silly with the billowy sleeves and the fancy way it fell, but Narcissa seemed very pleased with it.

Each robe had an outer layer that was kept together with a clasp that was customized, Harry soon found out.  Draco didn’t need to be asked what he wanted his to be, and got handed a dragon clasp with a grin from Mr. Lyons.  Draco returned it and stood still while it was charmed on, looking pleased.

When Harry’s turn came, Narcissa focused her gaze on him.  “What would you like, Harry?”  She asked.   At first, Harry was tempted to ask if he could have a snitch, but some part of him felt that was somewhat childish and that she would disapprove.

An idea struck him, and Harry bit his lip, wondering if the suggestion might be a bit rude.  He didn’t want her to feel like he was ungrateful or anything.  Seeing his look, Narcissa arched an eyebrow, and he decided just to spit it out.  “C-could it be a lily?”  

A warm look entered Narcissa’s eye, and Mr. Lyons looked surprised, but he nodded.  “Certainly, dear boy.”  One final wave made the bit of gold in his hand transform into the shape of a lily in bloom, which hid the hook behind it, and it flew over to attatch itself to the cloak.

His hand came up almost involuntarily to rub at it, and he murmured his thanks.  Mr. Lyons seemed to sense that it had some deeper meaning, and patted him on the shoulder.  He turned back to Narcissa and wished her well, before disappearing out the Floo, trunk following behind him like a faithful dog.

Harry was so absorbed in the lily that he didn’t notice Narcissa come closer until her hand was on his head, rubbing through his hair gently.  She smiled at him, before suggesting the boys get out of the robes so the House-elves could put them away.

As Harry followed Draco back to their room, he kept running a finger over the clasp.  He now had another reason to look forward to the party.


	7. Gilded Masks

Before Harry even realized it, Christmas had come.  Draco had woken him early and they poked at some of the gifts until the elder two Malfoys woke.  Finally they sat down to breakfast before opening the presents.  From the table, Draco eyed the doorway to the sitting room, as if afraid the presents would vanish.  Harry enjoyed his french toast.  Once they had their fill and Draco could no longer be held back they went to unwrap their gifts.

Harry, as orchestrated by the Malfoy rules opened his gifts first.  They were as varied as the people he had given them. He received: a handmade quilt from Pansy - it seemed she had quite the knack for crafts, a book on the Chudley Canons from Ron along with a long apology letter, a snitch shaped clock which flew from Snape along with a letter priding him on his punctuality, and a series of Wizarding children’s books from Narcissa and Lucius, and a Wireless Wizard Radio from Draco.  

Draco received a book on Defense magic from Snape, a set of Quidditch equipment from his parents, a Walkman with a set of various cassettes from Harry, who had asked Flitwick for the charm to make it work in Hogwarts, a wide variety of expensive looking sweets from Blaise, and a large piece of needlepoint from Pansy with a large Swedish Short-snout on it.  He fiddled with Harry’s gift a while, utterly enthralled by the otherness of it.  

“How many crafts can Pansy do, anyway?”  Harry asked absently, showing Draco how to put the cassette in.

“All of them, I think.”  Draco closed the walkman and pushed play, grinning when it worked.  “Sewing, knitting, needlepoint, crochet, and I think she can also weave.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief.  He guessed without television and other Muggle conveniences, the children of the Wizarding world still did older era activities to keep busy.  It actually made quite a lot of sense.  “Well, she’s good.”

Harry was pleased that Lucius and Narcissa both liked the gifts he gave them.  He had gotten Lucius a 1903 vintage Moontrimmer broomstick, as he collected antique brooms, which had caused the man to gape openly, stutter out a thank you and then sit and quietly pet the broomstick.  He had given Narcissa a rather ornate looking bracelet and hair clasp, they were outfitted with constellations and shifted depending on the hemisphere and time of year.  They seemed to appreciate the amount of thought he had put into the presents.

After they finished with their gifts and they were safely tucked away and the room was clean, Narcissa moved about the house taking avid notes.  She spoke to her quill, which followed her about as she assessed the work that needed to be done before the party the next day.  Throughout the day the house was transformed into a silver, blue and white magical landscape.  The decorative trees switched from homely to more professional, their sitting room was rearranged and spelled into looking less familial.  Harry felt it was strange how much the Malfoys changed their public persona from their personal ones.  It felt sad, almost.

“So, who are some of these people coming to the party, again?”

“A lot of them are really high up in the Ministry, or they’re philanthropists like Mother and Father.”  Draco watched as the windows were charmed to look frosted and cool.  “So it’s all about making the right impression and being very regal.”

Harry nodded and sucked his lower lip into his mouth as he looked down as his fleece, warm pajamas.  He was pretty sure he was about as far from regal as he could get.  Still, he would be on his best behaviour and act as much like a spoiled brat who knew his place as he could.  He didn’t want to blow this for the Malfoy family.

“I’m...” Harry stood from the hard wood and leather chair that had once been soft and plush.  “I’m going to for a walk.”

“Want some company?”  Draco asked, frowning down at his Walkman when it wouldn’t behave.

“No thanks.”

Draco gave an absent nod and wrestled with his musical device as Harry walked away.  Harry watched Draco a moment before slipping up the stairs.  He walked through the long halls until he reached the room he had been in with Draco the previous Christmas.  He walked over to the book and flipped open the pages, it took some time until he found the name again. Charlus Potter.  He ran his fingers over the slightly raised ink.  The Potters belonged here.  He belonged here.

Didn’t he?

~*~

Harry didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it.  Really, he didn’t know where the difference between his mental images were.  The word ‘party’ brought to mind music, food and people.  There was music; some sort of background classical type tune that Harry couldn’t identify the source of.  The food wasn’t out yet, but there were a set of slowly floating snack trays that were doing laps around the room that magically refilled themselves when they got low.  The drinks were a few types of wine that Harry couldn’t even begin to identify, and then some sort of strange fruity drink for the children that looked like wine but didn’t have any alcohol.  One long table was set out with finger foods.  He wondered if there were cucumber sandwiches there.  The telly always mentioned those at fancy events like this.  And there were certainly people.  Lots and lots of people.

Actually, the people were probably the strange thing to him.  There were lots of them, and they were chatting and looking pleasant enough, but none of the adults actually looked like they wanted to be there.  Like this party was some sort of duty.  Harry was familiar enough with that - for really big clients Uncle Vernon would invite them over for dinner and chatting - but for some reason Harry had figured it would be different here.

Apparently schmoozing was universal.

For the most part, Harry had been following Draco around like a lost puppy, trying as hard as he could to remember the names of everyone he’d been introduced to and in general failing utterly.  There were just too many people, and they all had really strange pureblood names.  Some of them Harry might have been able to repeat if he hadn’t been afraid of the pronunciations.

But Draco was in his element, and it was only making Harry feel all the more awkward.  And so he’d retreated to the snack table, dallying about choosing what he wanted to take as much time as possible.  

Honestly, it really wasn’t helping at all.  It would be one thing if he was just another child, or even if he was just the messy little kid the Malfoys had decided to keep for some reason.  But no.  He was the Boy Who Lived.   For most people that meant a darted glance to his forehead, and an slightly more enthusiastic greeting, and then about five minutes of staring before something else caught their attention.  For others it meant long creepy stares from the other side of the room.

It didn’t help that most of the latter type were the sort that Aunt Petunia would drag Dudley to the other side of the street to avoid.  Frankly, Harry was starting to get creeped out.  Thus, his lapse into If-I-can’t-see-them mentality.

A cough from behind him made Harry jump, and he whirled around to see Professor Snape watching him with one arched eyebrow, with what might have been a look of amusement in his eyes.  “Professor!”  Harry greeted, and nearly choked on the bit of pastry he’d been about to swallow.  After taking care of that, he twitched slightly, not really sure what to do with himself.  On one hand, there were all the rules of etiquette pounding around in his head, but on the other hand this was Professor Snape, who he spent hours with nearly every weekend and who had sent him a Christmas gift.  

The professor must have picked up on his confusion, and, really, it was probably kind of obvious.  Harry was beginning to feel very much like a Gryffindor in this strange new world, because he extended his hand.  Harry took it and gave it a firm shake, like he was someone terribly important, because he could still feel those eyes on him.  Luckily Snape only seemed to find this more amusing.

Dark eyes watched him for a short moment, before Snape moved so that to the outside observer he would look very proper, but from Harry’s angle he could tell he was leaning slightly on the snack table.  Harry appreciated the gesture - it made everything seem so much less formal and scary, and the corners of his mouth twitched in what tried to be thankful smile around the mask he was learning to develop.  

“Feeling awkward?”  He asked dryly, and Harry tensed, aware that he probably didn’t look comfortable, but not really liking it being rubbed in his face.

Harry toyed with another of the Hors d’oeuvres.  “No.”  He replied shortly, before tossing the entire thing in his mouth so he wouldn’t have to talk.  It was a bit much, and his cheeks bulged slightly as he tried to chew it.

It was amazing how the professor could make his nods so solemn and so sarcastic at the same time.  “Clearly.”

There was silence for a moment, as Harry dealt with his food, before green eyes glanced up at Snape.  “Thank you for the clock, professor.  It’s brilliant.”

Snape nodded, looking pleased.  “You are very welcome.  Thank you as well.  That cauldron was... It was more than I would usually accept from a student.”

Shrugging, Harry peered out of the corner of his eye back at the crowd, trying to pin down exactly whose gaze it was that was bugging him so much.  He thought about pointing out that Lucius’ gift had been much more expensive than his, but figured that might not be the best way to go about it.  “I saw that yours looked like it was getting a bit worn out, so I figured it was as good  a present as any.  I hope you get some use out of it.  Both of them, actually.”  He grinned at the professor.  Inside the silver cauldron he’d given the man had been a green jumper.  

“Brat,”  Snape returned, but it was without any heat.  The man eyed him for a moment, before continuing, voice unusually hesitant.  “About the engraving on it.   _Ad perpetuam memoriam_.”

Harry frowned at him.  “Did I get the translation wrong, sir?  ‘To keep memories forever’, right?”

Shaking his head, the professor’s gaze got slowly more intense.  “It was correct.  I was simply curious as to why you chose that particular phrasing.”

“Oh.”  Harry shrugged.  “I was looking up what silver cauldrons are used for.  It said... uh... Veritaserum, some potion that had ‘wolf’ in it, and Memory Enhancement potions.  It was just supposed to be kind of a joke.  Not a very funny one, I guess.”

The man’s gaze slipped away until he was looking out the frosted windows, eyes just slightly out of focus.  “I understand.  I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Potter, though I’m sure you understand how I am about humor.”

“You only do it when you think people won’t get it.”  Harry responded instantly.  Snape’s eyes snapped to him, looking like he was going to argue the point, when he suddenly froze, gaze stuck on Harry’s chest.

Harry looked down, trying to figure out what had the man so shocked, thinking he’d probably spilled something disgusting on his new robes.  There was nothing like that, glint of gold caught his attention.  The lily clasp had been shined to perfection, and Harry was kind of pleased it was the most noticeable thing about his outfit...

Oh.

Right.

He gazed up the professor, who had gone even more pale than normal.  Slowly, the man looked back up to his face, and his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach out and touch the clasp.  Their eyes met, and Harry twisted his head away, feeling inexplicably guilty.  He knew, from the mirror, that his eyes were just like his mother’s.  Not for the first time, he wondered how important his mum had to have been to the professor that she was in his reflection too.

A firm pressure took hold of his chin and his face was turned until he was looking at him again.  The professor’s eyes seemed darker than normal, as they glanced between the little bit of metal and his own green eyes, before he let go and took a slow step back.

“Thank you, Harry.”  The words were quiet, but painfully heartfelt.  Harry wasn’t really sure why he was being thanked, but didn’t think his understanding was as important as the professor getting to say it.  So he nodded in reply.  For a moment, Harry thought Snape was going to say something else, but instead he turned on his heel and stalked away, his fancy robes making no less an intimidating motion than his teaching ones.  Had it been anyone else, Harry would have thought he needed time to collect himself, but it was Professor Snape.  That was just stupid.  The man was the most stoic person Harry knew.  Well, when he wasn’t irritated, anyway.

Now alone and painfully aware of it, Harry searched the room for Draco.  He spotted the grouping of pale hair that was the Malfoys, and started to make his way over when a cry of, “Oh, if it isn’t _Harry Potter_! Won't you please wait for me?”  

Harry froze, disliking the way the voice put so much emphasis on his name, and turned to see a older looking man in golden dress robes there, who was doing his best to look both terribly important and gracious at the same time.  Harry rather thought the cross made him look like he had no idea what he wanted to do with himself.

He would later regard that thought as unerringly accurate.

The man stretched out a hand to shake, and Harry took it after only a moment’s hesitation.  His grip was tight, but the man seemed to regard it as firmer than it actually was, and his elbow flopped around a bit on the shake.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my boy.  Really it is.”   Really, why was it that only the really irritating people called him ‘my boy’.  Well, Dumbledore did too, but he also did stuff like eat earwax Every Flavour Beans, so he was something of an exception.

“Nice to meet you too, sir.”  Harry replied slowly.  For a moment, the man frowned, before his eyes widened like he’d been let in on a great secret.

The man’s hands dropped to clasp in front of him, and he tried to take on the sort of grandfatherly air that really only worked when you were Dumbledore’s age, or at least as old as Mr. Lyons.  “Oh, my dear boy, you don’t know who I am, do you?”

Slowly, Harry shook his head.  “No, sir.  I’m sorry.”

One hand came up to pat Harry fondly on the arm, and he fought the urge to jump back from it.  Strangers touching him set off every alarm bell he had.  “Don’t apologize, oh no!   I certainly don’t have the sort of ego that could be damaged by something like that.”  The way he chuckled after that made Harry think that yes, he did.  “My name is Cornelius Fudge.  I’m the Minister of Magic.”

Oh.  Well.  That was somewhat embarrassing.  He’d managed to not recognize the leader of the British Wizarding World.   “It’s very nice to meet you then, Minister.”  He did his best to give Fudge a warm smile, but figured it came out looking rather bland.  

“Thank you, Harry.”  He did that chuckle again, before his expression became something more serious.  “I do think we’ll be getting along splendidly in the future.  In fact-”

Whatever he had been about to say was interrupted by the arrival of Lucius.  The man situated himself between Harry and Fudge, but his face was completely pleasant. Yet more warning bells went off in his head at the gesture. “Ah, Minister!  I see you’ve spotted young Harry in the crowd.”

Fudge chuckled yet again, but this time it sounded slightly forced.  “You know me, Lucius.  I have an eye for importance, you might say.”

“Indeed.”  He replied, and launched into a conversation, ignoring the way Fudge’s eyes kept darting to Harry.  Draco came up beside him at that point, his hand swinging so that it gently bumped against the side of Harry’s.  The shorter boy returned the tap.  It seemed less that Draco was worried about him, probably reacting to his Father’s negative reaction to the situation.

Really, Harry just hated this whole situation.  

A warm handed landed on Harry’s shoulder, and he glanced up to see Narcissa watching Lucius wrap the Minister in conversation with intense eyes.  She looked down at him and gave a quick smile, before putting the mask back on.  “Hello, Minister.  You might want to move this conversation to the table.  Dinner is about to start.”  Then she turned around and started directing the boys over to the smaller table that was set up for the children.  It was no less fancy, simply smaller.  Leaning over, Narcissa murmured into Harry’s ear, “Stick to Draco for the rest of the evening.  It’s safer - most people here at not looking out for your best interests.”  Harry nodded with as little motion as she could, and her hand gave a tiny pat before she took a step back and slipped back to the main table to conduct the proceedings.

Draco took the place at the head of the kids table with a small, pleased smile, and kicked lightly at the chair to his right so that it inched back.  Harry took it and tried to not to be awkward.  A quiet snort caught his attention, and he turned to look at his friend.  They were the first at the table, or Harry didn’t think he’d have dared make such a noise.  “First party and already the Minister is looking to talk with you.  Look at you.”

“Shut it.”  Harry mumbled, putting his hands in his lap so he could fidget without embarrassing himself.

Another little kick hit his chair, but this time Draco’s expression stayed masked.  Before Harry could retaliate - and good thing too, since neither of them really had a good sense of when to back off - someone nearly slammed into Harry and wrapped their arms around him.  “Hello, Harry!”  Pansy practically crooned.  She backed off and smoothed out her purple dress robes, expression just slightly impish.  Harry appreciated the gesture - no doubt Pansy had figured out how much he was hating all this stuff, and decided to throw it all out the window for him, despite the fact that she’d likely be scolded for it later.  

He’d made some great friends.

Pansy sat down next to him, and pushed out the chair next to her.  A smaller boy sat down in it.  His eyes were a lighter shade of brown than Pansy’s, but there hair color and something about the shape of the face and nose were identical.  “Harry, Draco, this is Basil, my little brother.  Basil, this is Harry and Draco.”

“Nice to meet you,”  Basil told them, though he sounded anything but.  In fact he sounded bored of his mind.  Harry sympathized.  His eyes did flicker to Harry’s scar, but it seemed more like he looked because there was nothing else to do rather than because he was dying to see it.  Leave it to Pansy to tell the kind of stories that would override years of hearing about the Boy Who Lived.

Before Harry could muster the energy to respond to that kind of lack luster greeting, Blaise sat down across from him, slouching down slightly in his seat.  It was the kind of posture he normally took on after Herbology, which had the sort of physical labor the boy hated.  “Hello, everyone.”  He greeted, giving a little hand wave.  Pansy began eyeing him, and Harry decided to ignore that.  She keep doing that, and he really just didn’t get it.  Probably just some girl thing.

A few seconds after that, Millicent sat next to him, ignoring the little scowl Pansy sent at her for it.  “Hello,”  She grunted, looking just as bored as Basil.  Next to her sat a tall girl, with the thick hair Millicent was known for tied up tightly in a neat bun.  Her dress robes were slate grey, and her expression was just slightly contemptuous.  Harry blinked at her for a moment, thinking she was familiar.

The girl eyed him, and then stood to reach across the table for a handshake.  “I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced.  I am Mirjam Bulstrode, Millicent’s older sister.  I’m a prefect for Slytherin.”  A warning about not reaching across the table flashed through his mind, and Harry couldn’t remember if it was only during meals or not, but when he hesitated the look in Mirjam’s dark eyes became even cooler, so he reached out and took her hand.

From the way she crushed it in her grip, Millicent’s strength ran in the family.  “Harry Potter.  Nice to meet you.”  He did his best not to let the pain show, and she nodded slightly at him, but didn’t look like she’d been fooled in the least.

The last two guests, Crabbe and Goyle, wandered over and grunted what worked for greetings for them.  They got various forms of ‘hello’ back.  Before conversation could get started, the food appeared on their plates, and everyone became occupied by eating.

Just like at the practice dinners, Harry concentrated on following what he’d learned instead of the conversation.  He found that the soup was alright - nothing really to his tastes, but still well cooked.  There wasn’t a lot that Harry couldn’t eat, to be honest.  He started to run a check through each time ate.  Tilt the bowl back.  Side of the spoon.  Don’t slurp.  Don’t put down on the table.  Bit of bread, not all.

The strategy was working, until Harry hit a bit that was hotter than the rest, and set his spoon down blindly while he grabbed his water.  It hadn’t been enough to burn, but it had certainly been uncomfortable.  When he finally glanced back down, he saw that he’d missed the bowl entirely, and that the spoon had fallen all the way over to the dessert fork and spoon.

His face heated up, and Harry clenched his hands in his lap before he resisted the urge to sigh.  He was so awful at all of this.

A kick on his leg from Draco made Harry catch his eye.  Slowly, and very obviously deliberately, Draco put his own spoon down on the table.   One blonde eyebrow arched at him, and the edges of his lips twitched in what would have been Draco’s you-are-an-idiot grin.  The Malfoy Heir cast an intense look beyond him while tapping the spoon, and Harry turned to look at Pansy.  She gave him a dry look.

“No, this is stupid.”  She replied to his unspoken request.  “Harry, we are _twelve_.  It’s okay if we mess up a bit.  In fact, look at this one.”  She gestured to Basil, who had the entire spoon dangling from his mouth while he gazed around in disinterest.  

From across the table, Mirjam gave them all a disapproving look.  “That’s no attitude to be taking.  You should strive to follow etiquette perfectly.”  She looked down her nose at all of them, which was simple enough for her, being the tallest.

Millicent rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, that’s why you’ve got a book in your lap.”

Her sister coloured and gave a huff, but didn’t say anything.

By the end of the exchange, Harry was feeling much better.  Grabbing the spoon, he finished up the soup.  Now that he wasn’t so nervous about being utterly perfect, he found it easier to follow the rules.  The irony was irritating, but helpful in this case.

After the soup was the main course.  The lamb tasted a bit strange at first, but once he got used to the flavour, Harry found he quite liked it.  The potatoes were amazing, especially with the side of melted butter, enchanted to stay warm.   The asparagus was like the soup - not great but not awful, but Harry found he didn’t like the beans at all.  In fact, when he took a few to try them, he had to fight not to spit them out.  

So much for ‘not much he couldn’t eat’.  Maybe it said something about how the Malfoys and Hogwarts had been feeding him.

After was the salad, which was nice and crispy but had some dressing that made it more difficult to eat without dripping on himself.  Once that was poofed away by the elves, there was a moment of anticipation shared at the table.

Then dessert appeared.  Bowls of ice cream with various fresh fruits as topping came into being in front of each child.  It seemed the sticky toffee pudding was adults only.  They all dug in with relish.  The excitement didn’t last long, what with this course being the fourth, but it was still delicious.

Once everyone was finished up, the tables broke back up into chatting groups.  A woman with Blaise’s dark colouring made her way over with a man in tow.  She was stunning, with her hair done up in a fancy way that brought attention to her delicate cheekbones and long neck.  It was fairly clear who it was, and that made Harry very, very nervous.

The woman ended up with her arm wrapped warmly - well, warm for this sort of party - around Blaise’s shoulders.  The man hung back, looking awkward and out of place.  “Mother, I believe you have not yet met Harry Potter.  Harry, this is my mother, Alix Moraeu.”  Harry figured the last name was from the awkward man, who had to be her latest husband - number six, if Harry wasn’t mistaken.

“How do you do, Mrs. Moraeu.”

“Very well.  And you, Mr. Potter.”

It wasn’t lost on anyone that Blaise was ignoring the man, least of all Mr. Moraeu.  Soon enough, Blaise said his goodbyes and disappeared into the crowd with his family.  Other parents came and went as well - Harry was quickly introduced to the Parkinson family, who he’d seen at King’s Cross but never spoken to.

Eventually Harry ended up tagging along with Draco again, trying his best to look presentable.  Now that his stomach was full, and it seemed like someone turned the heat up in the room, it was getting harder to be alert.  The feeling was made worse by the fact that the eyes were back, and Harry craned his neck to try and find the source.

This time, he was able to find one.

A rather tall woman, with dark brown hair that looked like it wanted to be wild but had been forcibly tamed, was watching him.  She had some features that look like of like Narcissa’s, but for the most part her face was a bit softer.  That didn’t stop her stare from being very intense.  Her gaze narrowed when she saw that Harry had noticed her, but she didn’t otherwise react.

Harry fit against Draco’s side when he was finished talking.  “Who is that?”  He hissed, jerking his head towards the mystery woman with as little movement as possible.  Draco’s eyes tracked over the room and until he spotted her, and then he frowned.

“I don’t know.  She looks like a Black, though.”  At Harry’s side glance, he explained.  “Mother’s side of the family.  I don’t know many of them.  A lot were dead before I was born, and others were disowned or ran away.  A couple of them are in Azkaban.  Stuff like that.  They really fractured after the war.”  He gazed at her for a moment.  “She seems really focused on us, doesn’t she?  We’d best ask Mother who she is, just in case.”

Between them they were able to spot and get to Narcissa, who had just broken off talking with someone who looked like they worked for the Ministry.  “What is it, boys?”  She asked, seeing how tense they were.

A subtle hand gesture from Draco had her gazing in the right direction, and she seemed to pick out who they were talking about instantly.  Narcissa’s eyes widened slightly, and she froze.  

The woman apparently decided to that she couldn’t hide in the corner anymore, and slowly approached them, eyes shuttered.  “Hello, Cissy.”  She greeted, voice falsely pleasant.

“'Dromeda,”  Narcissa replied, her own tone slightly breathy.  “I’m surprised to see you here.”

Beside him, Draco hissed into Harry’s ear, “That’s my aunt!  Mother’s sister, Andromeda... uh... Tonks, I think.  She was disowned because she married a muggle-born man.”  Draco seemed simply surprised, while Harry’s heart dropped slightly.  He had never met his mother’s sister simply because she married someone with non-magical parents.  That was heartbreaking.

Andromeda arched a dark eyebrow.  “Well, you did invite me, Sister Dear.  I would think it shouldn’t be that much of a surprise.”

Lips thinning slightly, Narcissa tensed.  “When I last invited you, I believe you had your daughter send me a rather... creative message.  How is young Nymphadora?  And your husband as well.”  Her voice was slightly strained on the last.

For a moment, Andromeda stared at Narcissa’s face, as though trying to find some hidden trap in those words.  “They’re doing well.  Nymphadora is currently in her auror training.”  One of Narcissa’s eyebrows shot up, but it was impressed rather than derisive.  Auror was a difficult career path.  “And I do admit, I’m not precisely here for the company.”  Brown eyes darted around the room, hardening slightly.  “I was asked to come here by Albus Dumbledore.”

Freezing again, Narcissa eyed her sister.  “And why would he ask you to do that?”

“Because he doesn’t trust some of your esteemed guests to run off with the Boy Who Lived, I’m sure.”  Harry tensed, both from his title and the implications.  Draco pressed closer to him, and he leaned slightly towards the other boy.

Now Narcissa was starting to look angry.  He lowered her voice until it was nearly a hiss.  “We would _never_ allow that.”

Andromeda looked skeptical at first, but something in Narcissa’s face must have been convincing.  “Neither of you?”  She asked, her voice slight scornful.  Harry tapped his and Draco’s hands together when the boy twitched at the clear insult to his father.  Narcissa’s expression didn’t change at all.  “I see.” And she did sound like she saw, and was surprised by it.  “Very well then.  I suppose Dumbledore needn’t have worried.”

“Dumbledore should know better than to think he can interfere in such a manner.”  Narcissa shot back.  Andromeda tilted her head, maybe in agreement or maybe in scorn.

There were a few tense moment of silence where the sisters eyed each other, before Andromeda nodded to Narcissa.  “I suppose I’ll take my leave now.  It was nice to see you, Draco, and to meet you, Mr. Potter.”  She smiled at each of them, but it didn’t reach her eyes.  Instead she simply looked thoughtful.  “And perhaps I will see you soon, Cissy.”

What might have been a smile in another lifetime twitched at Narcissa’s lips.  “We’ll have to see what the future holds, I’m sure.  Good-bye, Andromeda.”  The dark-haired woman nodded, before she slipped out into the crowds and seemed to melt into it.  Harry had the sneaking suspicion that the only reason he’d been able to spot her was because she’d wanted him to.

Narcissa gave a little wave to the boys before wandering off, looking like she was deep in thought.  Draco took a deep breath and put the Malfoy Heir mask back on and they slunk back into the party.

Soon enough the late hour was starting to get to the guests, and everyone seemed like they were waiting for the appropriate hour to make their good-byes.  From across the room, Harry spotted Pansy and Basil, the later of whom was leaning against his sister, looking half asleep.  For all the ways she mocked him, the way she let him press against her was nothing but fond.  In fact, it was somewhat familiar.

Harry had gotten slightly separated from Draco and was trying to catch up with him when a hand wrapped around his arm and he was spun around to face a man with sharp features and deep brown eyes.  The man’s hair was straight and long, and while most of it was tied back, a few strands fell across his face.  The way the shadows fell across his features made him look like he had deep slashes running down his face.  “Ahh, Harry Potter.  What an interesting lad to see at a place like this.”

Resisting the urge to gulp at the dark look on the man’s face, Harry twisted in a way that snatched his arm away put looked polite that he’d mastered in at the Dursley’s.  “Should I be somewhere else?”  He responded, putting as much cluelessness into his voice as he dared.

“Yes, you should be.” The man responded, and the harsh way his eyes racked over his face, especially his scar, implied that six feet under was where he belonged.

Casting a glance around for Draco, Harry was having trouble spotting that distinct blonde hair, and took a cautious step back.  The man matched it, and then raised him another.  “I don’t think we’ve met, sir.  You obviously know my name, but I’m at a loss for yours.”  Harry managed to keep his voice mostly steady, even as his self preservation instinct was telling him to make a run for it.

The man smiled at that.  It was not a nice look.  “I’m not sure that’s necessary information, lad.”

“That’s enough, Nicolas.”  A voice from behind Harry practically growled, and he spun to see Professor Snape standing there, eyes flashing with temper.  Harry could have fainted from relief.

The man, who was apparently named Avery, stood up straighter, meeting Snape’s glare head on.  “Oh, no need to be like that, Severus.  I just couldn’t resist messing with the boy a bit.  No harm meant.”  He made that nasty grin again, and nodded at the both of them.  “The name is Nicolas Avery, Mr. Potter.  You’d do well to remember it, I think.”  His eyes seemed to glimmer with dark humor, and he chuckled slightly to himself before he walked away.

Harry looked up at Professor Snape.  “Thank you, sir.”  He gulped, glancing back.  “Was he just kidding, like he said?  Or...”  He trailed off, not really sure what the ‘or’ was.  Try to kidnap him like Andromeda said?  Kill him?

“With Nicolas, it can be difficult to tell.  Your mother once described him as having an evil sense of humor.”  He replied, and Harry started slightly, before his hand came up to touch at the clasp.  He nodded in return, and the professor patted him on the shoulder before Harry caught sight of Draco and headed off that way.

The blonde eyed him when he got back.  “Where were you?”

Shrugging, Harry peered back into the crowd, but couldn’t spot Avery again.  “You know, just someone wanted to talk.”  

Finally, the guests made their good-byes, and began to leave.  Soon enough, the house was empty of everyone but the Malfoy family. The boys were ushered off to bed, and Harry rushed off, grateful for the rest.  He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

That night, Harry dreamed of blooming lilies, dark cloaks, and doors opening and closing.

~*~

In comparison to the party, the rest of the holidays seemed very subdued in an almost numb sort of way.  Harry preferred the slow pace and the casual behaviour more after the strangeness of the party.  Harry found himself lying in bed after the slip from 1992 to 1993 watching his clock flit about, circling his head before zooming off.  He watched the golden clock glint in the moonlight absently as his mind reeled with too many thoughts.  

Would he always be disconnected from this world?  These people?  He knew that the Malfoys put on a show for the public - but how much did they put up with him for Draco and how much did they really want him?  Harry heaved out a sigh. He felt lost, disliking the idea of being some kind of a novelty, which he was to so many people.  He was starting to wonder if, in some ways, some of his friends viewed him that way.  If he was simply to be collected amongst their treasures and set apart from the world.

It was at times like this, Harry wished he had his mother.  He had Draco, and could talk to him about almost anything, but there was something lacking.  Something... Harry pushed himself up and threw off his covers angrily.  He pulled on his glasses and shrugged on his bathrobe before knotting it firmly.  After exiting his room, Harry made his way down the stairs to the main level.  It took a bit of wandering before he found the kitchen and got himself a glass of water.  He made his way back into the living room, which had been changed back into the comfortable arrangement he was used to.  The fire was still crackling giving the room a warm, soft glow.  

“Can’t sleep?”

Harry practically jumped and turned to see Narcissa sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs closest to the fire.  She looked so different in her sleep wear; a long, flowing blue nightgown, warm and fluffy slippers.  A blanket was wrapped around her shoulders and her hair was piled on top of her head.  She had a book open in her lap with a faint orange light hovering over it and a steaming mug of tea was sitting next to her chair.  Harry watched her for a moment and tilted his head, she was wearing glasses.  He had never seen her wear them before, or even thought of the idea of her needing a pair.  

“Ah,” Narcissa nodded her head, her fingers coming up to brush at the arms of her frames.  “My eyes get tired.  It seems I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest.  She barely looked older than thirty, even though he knew from talk that she was older than Snape.  Instead he closed his mouth and offered her a strange sort of smile.

“Sit, dear.  Keep yourself warm.”

Harry dropped into the squashy chair across from Narcissa without hesitation and took a long sip of his water.  

“What seems to be keeping you awake?”

Harry rose his shoulders in a shrug.  “My mind won’t shut up.”

“Ah.”  Narcissa removed her dainty, slim framed glasses from her nose and settled them about her neck on a gilded chain.  “I fear some of that is my fault.  With the party...”  Narcissa pursed her lips in thought before taking a long sip of her tea before setting it down on the saucer.  “There are things you must understand, Harry.  When Lucius and I, more Lucius than myself, but I am an ever faithful wife, sided with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, it was a move of desperation in many ways rather than agreement.  While we were young and ambitious and had our head filled with silly traditional thoughts such as blood purity, we were also very scared.  He was a very powerful Wizard, and very capable.  Lucius and I had tried for many years for children and I had finally been gifted with Draco. I was only three months pregnant when he came into power.  I did what I did, in many ways, out of pure selfishness, to protect Draco.  I think in many ways Lucius did the same.”  

She sighed and framed her face with one of her hands, suddenly looking old and frail. “Then he fell and there was freedom.  Thanks to you, thanks to your mother, he was gone.  However there are still people who cling to this hopeless, terrifying fear that... Voldemort will return.  There are nonsensical whispers about prophecies and death.  You know the old saying keep your friends close but your enemies closer?  Truer words have never been spoken in Death Eater circles.  I am sorry, Harry, I truly am, for exposing you to all of this so very young.  There seems to be a thought that Lucius and I are converting you to the Dark Arts, which is so very ridiculous, but so very crucial for them to believe.”

Harry gave a shaky nod and tried to swallow around the lump in his throat.  He forced in a shaking breath as his lower lip and chin quivered.  He sniffed hard and turned his face away in embarrassment.  “You’d never...”  Harry found it hard to breathe, let alone talk.  “You’d never go back to him?”

Narcissa shook her head once, firmly.  “Never.  I would rather throw myself down in front of you and Draco than let him touch you.  Either of you.”

Harry gave a small, pitiful whimper.  He couldn’t understand it but somehow that made him think of his mother and it made everything within him ache.  He forced himself to breathe and nodded his head.  He hadn’t even noticed Narcissa moving but he let himself be pulled against her as she sunk down into her chair.  He held tight to her as she wrapped her arms around him and rocked him as he cried.  Everything inside of him that had been held behind a dam of imposed stoicism and years of repression finally broke.  He cried until he was out of tears and his throat was sore and hoarse from sobs.  He cried until blackness fell over him and sleep finally came.  And with it, came relief.


	8. Den of Snakes

~~Chapter Eight~~

Harry arrived back at Hogwarts in a better, more confident mood than he had left in.  He had Snape’s birthday gift, a book - _The Most Famous Wizarding Mentors: From Merlin to Crowley_ \- neatly wrapped in the bottom of his trunk.  He had completed his homework over the break and was feeling good about himself.  Soon after arriving and unpacking, Harry headed to the Hospital Wing to visit Hermione, who was well on her way to being fully recovered.  She just needed to fight off the urge to chase dust motes, mice and roll around in cat nip.  Harry had found, much to Hermione’s chagrin and his humor, that over the break Millicent had taken to sending Hermione cat toys, collars with bells and treats.

Harry had tried not to laugh, he really did.  It failed miserably.

Needless to say, after some hissing and very inventive hexes, Harry was scrambling out of the Hospital Wing, cackling. He spent a while walking through the halls, occasionally chatting with with some of the portraits or some students.  He strolled his way back to the dungeons and into the Common Room a little under three hours later.  He spotted Nott in one of the chairs by the fire, he was slumped over slightly, looking tired.  Harry offered him a warm smile and Nott tried to return it.

“Good break?”

Nott nodded.  “Caught up on my reading.”

Harry laughed a little.  “But not your sleep, it seems.”

Nott laughed, but it sounded trapped.  “I’ve been busy.”

Harry nodded absently, eyeing the other boy with a little bit of worry.  “So it seems.”

Soon after that, Draco and Pansy had discovered him, and his thoughts about Nott were pushed to the side.   The three of them had dinner, and then decided to spend the evening wandering the castle a bit, enjoying the last day of freedom before classes started back up.

Eventually they found themselves on the third floor, debating the merits of attempting to prank Lockhart.

“It’s not like he would be able to figure it out.”  Draco pointed out with a sneer.  “The man is a grade A idiot.”

Shrugging, Harry turned sharp eyes a little further down the hallway, where the door to Lockhart’s office was.  Probably unlocked, knowing him.  “Yeah, but I don’t want him to get paranoid and increase security.  I’m still hoping to find something that proves what a fraud he is.”  Both Pansy and Draco sent him deadpan looks.  “Okay, so I haven’t started, but we’ve been busy with other things.  I still have this entire term.”  Focusing on Pansy, Harry tilted his head.  “Why aren’t you trying to stop us, anyway?  I thought you fancied him.”

Pansy gave her head a little toss, looking unconcerned.  “So long as you don’t hurt his face, I don’t really care what you do.  In fact, I was going to suggest something that would make it so he ends up bare chested.”  She gave a dreamy little sigh, and then seemed to shake herself out of it.  “Besides, I have decided that I really shouldn’t be wasting my time on him.  Like you said, he’s an idiot, and I deserve someone who is both handsome and intelligent.”  The look in her eyes seemed a little too sharp to be speaking generally, but Harry figured the less he focused on that the better.

Just then, the sound of cursing and gushing water interrupted their conversation.  “Was that Filch?”  Draco asked, peering down the hallway in the direction the noises were coming from.

“Sounds like it.”  Harry replied, and the three exchanged curious glances before following the sounds.  It wasn’t a far trek, and the Slytherins soon found themselves right next to the girl’s loo where they had found Mrs. Norris.  Filch was stalking off in the opposite direction, still cursing vehemently, and a veritable flood was gushing out of the bathroom.  A creepy wail keep fading in and out, while a person was sobbing while pacing.  And like they didn’t need to breathe.  

“Isn’t that where the Gryiffindors made that Polyjuice Potion?”  Draco asked, taking a futile step back as he tried and failed to keep his shoes dry.

Pansy nodded.  “Yeah, that must be Moaning Myrtle.”  She took a few steps forward and looked into the bathroom.  The boys traded glances before following her in, Draco more reluctantly as he stepped into the puddles of hopefully just water.

A ghostly girl was floating back and forth, her toes just barely above the tops of the stalls.  As the three Slytherins made their way inside, she whirled around to look at them, before letting out another piercing cry.  “Oh, more people to come and throw things at me?”  She demanded.

Looking around at the mess, Draco shook his head and crinkled his nose disdainfully.  “Certainly not.  I’m not even sure why we bothered to come in here.  Besides, what does it matter to you?  It’d just go straight through you, wouldn’t it?”

That sent Myrtle into a vehement rant about throwing things at poor Myrtle, and points systems based on location, before she flew off, phased through the door to one of the stalls, and continued her noisy sobbing.

For a moment Harry stared after her, before voicing his curiosity.  “Just what was thrown at you, anyway?”

Myrtle sniffed, before she passed her head through the stall door.  “A book.”  She spat.  “Probably a big and heavy one, too.  ‘What would scare Myrtle the most?’ they probably asked.”  

“You don’t know?”  Pansy drawled.  “Do you even know who threw it?”

Another shriek escaped Myrtle, before her voice became normal, if incredibly whiny.  “It wasn’t like I was expecting to be attacked.   I was just in the U-bend, minding my own business, thinking about my death, when the book fell down straight through my _head_.”  On the last word she flew at them, face enraged, and all three took a stumbling step backward.

Taking a deep breath to calm his now pounding heart, Harry managed.  “Well it sounds like they didn’t mean to it you at all.  They just were throwing the book.  It’s not like they could see you in there, right?”

Apparently that was worse.  “What, am I not important enough to warrant an attack?  Oh, silly Myrtle, she’s harmless!  She doesn’t deserve any attention at all.”  She snarled again, and then lashed her hand out so that it pointed to one of the sinks.  On the way the limb went through Pansy, who gave a squeak and latched onto Draco’s neck.  “If you’re so curious, take a look!  The book washed out into there.”  With that Myrtle flew off back into her stall, posture radiating injured pride.

At first the Second Years didn’t react, trading uncomfortable glances, before Harry spun around to look at the book, and Pansy and Draco untangled themselves.  In the sink sat a very familiar looking black diary.  

Shock hit Harry, as he slowly grabbed it and picked it up.  Now that Myrtle wasn’t shrieking anymore, he could hear the whispers plainly.  “I know this book.”  He murmured.

Pansy looked at it from over his shoulder.  “You sure?  Looks like a pretty average journal to me.”  In response, Harry flipped it over to show the name _Tom Marvolo Riddle_.

“Your father gave this to me over the summer,”  Harry turned his head a bit to look at Draco.  “It... I could hear stuff around it, like whispers so he let me have it.  He said it was dangerous, and that I shouldn’t mess with it too much.  I thought I’d stuffed it in my trunk...”

After a moment of silence, grey eyes met Harry’s.  “Father gave you a Dark object, and it ended up in someone else’s hands?  He’s going to be furious.”

Gulping, Harry looked back down at the diary.  He hadn’t thought of it like that.  Draco hadn’t sounded wary so much as dryly amused, but just how mad would he be?  “I swear it was in my trunk!”  His tone was defensive, but he really didn’t care at this point.  Then a thought hit him.  “Oh, Merlin.  In the beginning of the year, it looked like somebody had gone through my stuff.  I didn’t think anything was missing, though, so I thought maybe I was just being paranoid after last year.”  

There was a pause, before Pansy spoke, her voice quiet.  “Harry... you said it whispers, right?  Is it doing it now?”  Harry nodded.  “I can’t hear it.  I don’t think Draco can either.  The whispers... do they sound like the ones you’ve been hearing?  Like, before you found Mrs. Norris.”  

Harry considered this for a moment, before shaking his head slowly.  “Not really.  The voice from before was saying things.  Awful things, but it was still words.  This is just... hissing.”  He flipped through the blank pages, and felt the blood drain from his face.  “But it’s probably too big of a coincidence that they’re unrelated isn’t it?”  

Neither Draco or Pansy had to answer that, because it was true.  Slamming the book closed, Harry turned and made his way out the door, deep in thought.

Maybe if he’d kept a better track of the book, this wouldn’t be happening.  But it really couldn’t be his fault.  He hadn’t really known anything about the book, and it wasn’t like he’d lost it or anything - it’d been stolen from him.

Guilt clawed at his throat, and he ignored Draco and Pansy calling his name.

Harry spent the rest of the day after the bathroom incident in a haze.  His dormmates went to bed early so they would be able to wake up on time for breakfast and classes, but Harry lay awake in his bed.  His mind raced and his stomach eat away at itself with guilt.  Finally unable to take it, Harry pushed out of bed and made his way to the Common Room with the diary in hand.  He looked around for anyone before he finally sat down against the far windows and opened the diary up.

Harry thumbed through the blank pages before he pulled over the ink and quill he had brought down with him.  He opened to a page and dipped his quill into the ink.  He watched as a drop of ink splattered onto the page and then slowly disappeared as if it was sucked into the page.  Harry’s brows winged up and he turned the page, running his fingers over it before letting out a slow breath.  He took up his quill again.

 _My name is Harry Potter._

Harry watched in fascination as his proclamation was sucked into the pages before the ink resurfaced again.   _Hello, Harry Potter.  My name is Tom Riddle._

Harry’s heart thudded against his chest and he dipped his quill back into the ink before tapping the excess off.  He sat for a moment, trying to think of anything to say.   _Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?_

 _Yes._

 _Can you tell me?_

 _No._

Harry huffed out a breath and flopped back in his chair.  Useless!  He drummed his fingers on the table top as he thought.  However, the ink on the page was rippling and he leaned forward.

 _But I can show you.  Let me take you back...._

Harry opened his mouth and sucked in a breath before everything went bright and his world slanted sideways.  He was tumbling.  It felt like he fell forever until suddenly he was standing on a staircase somewhere in Howarts.  There was a boy on the landing not that far up from him.  He was older, maybe a sixth or seventh year and he was wearing Slytherin robes and had a shiny prefect badge on his collar.  Harry advanced on him.

“Excuse me?”  The boy gave no sign of noticing him.  “Excuse me!  Are you Tom Riddle?”

The boy was transfixed, watching a bunch of mediwizards and witches take someone out of the bathroom on a stretcher.  She was covered in a white sheet and Harry swallowed thickly.  He had never seen a dead body before.  

“Tom!”

Harry whirled at the voice the same time the boy did.  A younger looking Dumbledore was standing up on the stairs and motioned towards himself, the boy - Tom - went to him.  

“You shouldn’t be out so late, Tom.”

“I’m sorry, sir.  I had to see if the rumors were true.”

“I’m afraid they are, my boy.”

“About the school as well?  They can’t really close Hogwarts, can they?  I’ve nowhere else to go!”

“I’m afraid it’s up to Headmaster Dippet now, Tom.  A student has been killed, this is very serious business, you must understand.”

Tom looked forlorn and looked away as the body was passed behind Dumbledore.  Finally he looked back at the teacher.  “What if the culprit was caught?  Could Hogwarts remain open, then?”

Dumbledore looked down at Tom through his half-moon spectacles.  “Is there something you wish to tell me, Tom?”

Slowly Tom shook his head.  “No, sir.  Nothing.”

Dumbledore nodded sagely.  “Very well then.  You best be off.”

“Yes, sir.”

Then Tom was moving down the stairs and Harry raced to keep up with him.  He was weaving through corridors and finally he reached a door and threw it open.  A large boy.  Huge, even.  Was standing inside, talking to a box.  Harry recognized that boy’s voice, it was Hagrid’s!  Hagrid and Tom were talking.  Tom was saying something about Hagrid losing his wand and getting expelled.  That things had gone far enough and he needed to stop.  There was a bright flash of light and a great, massive hairy thing was scuttling on the floor.  Tom was firing spells at it.  The world was becoming smoky and Harry was screaming.    
The next thing Harry knew he was on the floor of the Common Room, his heart pounding and his breath quick.  He pushed himself up slowly and shook his head free of any lingering dizziness.  He had never thought to suspect Hagrid of anything, as he seemed so nice.  Seemed so completely harmless.  Harry swallowed thickly and pulled himself up.  First thing in the morning he would tell Draco and Pansy.  Harry snatched up the diary and headed to bed.

~*~

“There’s no way.”  Draco told him point blank the next day.  “You know Hagrid.  I’m certainly not the man’s biggest fan, but even I can tell you that he’d be utterly incapable of hurting anyone.  He wanted to be a dragon’s ‘mama’, for Merlin’s sake.”

Harry shrugged, feeling wrung out.  “I don’t know what to think!  Hagrid seems like a great guy, but I know what I saw, too.  What if it’s an act?”

A snort of Pansy made him whirl to look at her, and he almost tripped over a tree root.  They’d decided to take their talk to lake, since the Common Room was really no place to have a secret conversation, but Harry was wishing for the comforting quiet and dark of the dungeons at the moment.  “Oh, please.  The man couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.  He was our best source of information last year, remember?”

That was true.  Harry sighed and sat down beneath the tree, grabbing a blade of grass and ripping it into shreds.  “I was just so clear when I saw it, you know?”

With a little grunt, Draco sat down next to Harry, watching his fingers tear the grass into increasingly tiny pieces.  “Father said that book was dark.  Maybe it lied.  There’s no way to tell if it’s an accurate source of information.  That is, unless we talk to Hagrid.”  He gave his own shrug and reached out to still Harry’s efforts with a gentle hand.  

Pansy settled down on Harry’s other side, leaning half on him and half on the tree.  “It’s not like you to turn so quickly on someone you like - you’ve been standing up for the Gryffindors for over a year now.  It’s possible that diary did something to make you really sure it was telling the truth.”

Eyes wide with panic, Harry tilted his head to look at her.  “Can it do that?”

“Who knows?”  She returned.  “It got in your head to show you that scene.  Who knows what else it could do while it was in there.”

Panic churned at his stomach, and Harry brought up his legs and wrapped his arms around them, appreciating the warmth of his friends on either side.  He opened his mouth to say something, or maybe just to freak out, when a voice interrupted him.  “Now ‘ere’s a sigh’ fer sore eyes.  I haven’ seen you three in a while, ‘have I?”  

The Slytherins turned to see Hagrid coming up to greet them, one huge hand waving merrily and a fond grin on his face.  Seeing their expressions, he stopped, a beginning to frown.  “Is summat wrong?”

Dropping what was left of the grass, Harry untangled himself and stood up.  “Can we talk to you, Hagrid?  Inside?”

The huge man nodded, and shepherded them all to his hut, closing the door behind him.  Fang picked his head up, looking happy to see guests, but he picked up on the mood and dropped back down, big eyes looking up at them sympathetically.

Draco and Pansy both looked like they wanted to do a subtle lead-in, but Harry simply couldn’t hold it in.  “Did you open the Chamber of Secrets?”  He blurted as he sat down.  Once the words left his mouth he bit down on his lower lip and ignored the exasperated looks his fellow Slytherins shot him.  He was acting like a Gryffindor again, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.

Hagrid froze, before he sat down across from the Second Years and rubbed a hand down his face.  “Figured it was only a matter a time ‘fore someone asked.”  He sighed deep in his chest and cast a sad look at Draco.  “Yer Father sent a letter, I reckon.”  Before Draco could correct him, he shrugged.  “I didn’, I can tell yer tha’.  Got blamed fer it las’ time, though. ‘S no’ true, Aragog didn’t harm nobody.”

“Aragog?”  Pansy asked, looking like she didn’t want to know.

Mentioning whoever Aragog was seemed to cheer Hagrid up some.  “Aye, an Acromantula.  Jus’ a wee thing back then.  Ev’ryone wen’ on ‘bout him bein’ the beastie that was harming folk, bu’ he stayed wit me, he did.  Dunno wha’ it is tha’s harmin’ folk, but it ain’t Aragog.  Fac’, he’s righ’ afraid of it.”

Confused, Harry glanced at Pansy, who mouthed ‘giant spider’.  The three students shuddered at the idea.  Finally, Draco spoke.  “But, if you were blamed last time, why are you still here?”

“Well, I was jus’ a lad then, wasn’ I?  Got expelled, an’ got me wand snapped.  By tha’ poin’ mah Da’ had died, so Dumbledore let me stay here.  Great man, Dumbledore.  Great man.”  Hagrid sniffled and pulled out a handkerchief and blew noisily into it.

Draco let out a hissing breath and stood abruptly.  “We believe you, Hagrid.”  He asserted, and Pansy and Harry nodded while eying him.  “But we’ve got to get going now.  Come on, you two.”  Draco dashed out, and Harry and Pansy exchanged confused looks before making their good-byes and assuring Hagrid of their belief in him (Harry’s a bit more shaky, but growing stronger).

It took a minute to catch up with the blonde, who was as close to running as he could be while still look collected from a distance.  “What was that about?”  Pansy asked him.

The blonde didn’t slow at all, leading them down to the dungeons.  “I have to talk to my Father.  If Hagrid was blamed for it last time, then I don't doubt suspicion will fall on him again.  From what my parents have said about the Minister, he’ll probably send him to Azakaban if only to look good.  We have to convince Father to stop him.”

That made too much sense, and the three made their way to get a message to Lucius, but not before Pansy hissed, “What is it, opposite day?  Harry being suspicious of friends, and you rushing into save Hagrid?  Will I start complimenting people or something?”

Harry snorted.  “Pansy, that wouldn’t be opposite day.  That would be the end of the world.”

They managed to send an emergency owl off to Lucius with their fingers crossed and Harry slumped against the wall of the owlery.  After a minute Draco raced down the steps and Harry and Pansy shot after him.  Draco dashed into the Common Room and up to the dorms after entering the dungeons and ripped open his trunk.  

“Draco, have you gone mad?”  

“Shush!”  Draco pulled out the gilded mirror and sat on his bed.  “Mother!  Mother can you hear me?”

There was a long pause before Narcissa’s face appeared in the frame of the mirror. “Draco, how lovely.  Missing us already?”

Draco smiled a moment before it slipped away.  “Mother, is Father home? This is very important.”

Narcissa nodded her head and Harry caught a flash of the floor as she lowered the mirror.  A little less than a minute later Lucius’ face appeared in the mirror.  “What is it, Draco?”

Draco launched into the story about the diary and what Harry had seen as well as Hagrid’s story about Aragog.  Lucius listened intently, nodding every so often, even when his face pulled into a thin line.  

“Harry?”

Harry took the mirror from Draco and sat next to him on the bed.  “Yes, sir?”

“Do you still have the diary?”

Harry looked over at his trunk before handing the mirror to Draco.  He opened his trunk and pulled his books aside before sitting back on his heels.  “It’s gone.”

“It has to have been a Slytherin, no one else knows our password,”  Pansy mentioned quietly, frowning.

“I’ll do what I can, Harry.  I can’t promise you anything, Fudge can be a very irrational man and if he truly believes it’s Hagrid, he’ll put him in Azkaban.”

Harry nodded grimly and looked to the mirror.  “Thank you, sir.”

The three second year students traded looks as the mirror faded and Harry looked to the other two.  Pansy opened her mouth to say something before she looked away.  Harry heaved out a sigh and stood from his spot.

“Where are you going?”

Harry looked to Draco.  “For a walk.”

Draco nodded slowly.  “Be careful.”

For the rest of the evening, Harry found himself in a daze.  He felt awful about turning on Hagrid like that, and the fact that the diary was missing _again_ made him feel slightly ill.  Whatever was in the Chamber was a nasty piece of work, and the fact was that by bringing the diary to the school, he had been a key player in letting it out.

That, mixed with the fact that the diary had probably messed his head and done Merlin knows what, made him tempted to curl up in his bed and stay there for the rest of his life.

After wandering for a few hours, Harry was able to go back to the Common Room, not feeling much better but at least having given himself enough space to collect himself.  He waved to Pansy and Draco, who were seated on a couch with Millicent and Blaise, and mimed a yawn to indicate that he was going to bed.  They nodded and didn’t follow, although there were hints of worry in their expressions.  

It took several hours for Harry to fall asleep, though he pretended to be when Blaise and then Draco came up and slipped into their own beds.  He did manage to drift off before Nott came back from wherever he had gotten off to.  His dreams that night were strange, filled with lakes of writhing snakes and whispered threats.  Several times he woke up with his heart in his throat, but never stayed up for long after.

When Harry awoke for the last time, his snitch clock informed him that it was seven in the morning.  At first he simply groaned, his awful night’s sleep making him tempted to claim he was ill and to drift back off.  But, after a few minutes of quiet lounging, he remembered the date.  January 9th.  Professor Snape’s birthday.

That was enough to jolt him out of his drowsiness, for the most part, and Harry opened his trunk and grabbed the neatly wrapped book from the bottom.  

Within a few minutes, Harry had changed into his school robes and preformed his usual morning routine.  He considered waking Draco, but his friend would only be angry at him for disturbing his sleep, especially at this hour.  Besides, he was just running to Professor Snape’s office.  It shouldn’t take long at all.

Harry slipped out of the dorms and made his way down the hall, knocking on the door and hoping that the professor was there at all.  For a moment, there was no sound or movement, and he began to think he had missed him, when the door clicked open and Professor Snape looked down at him with an arched eyebrow and a cup of tea in his hand.  “Mr. Potter.”  He greeted, tone dry.  “I believe you are a little early for our usual appointment. Several days early, in fact.”

Grinning, Harry simply thrust the package out in front of him.  “Happy birthday, sir.”  His tone was slightly gleeful.  He was happy to give the man a gift - he certainly deserved it after all the effort he’d put into him - but he was even more excited to see where this strange little method of communication would go.

A little startled huff of breath escaped Snape as he gazed down at the present.  “How did you know about this date?”  He finally asked.

“That would be telling.”  Harry replied instantly.

Slowly, the professor reached out and took the package.  “That would be Lucius, then.”  Harry shrugged, green eyes twinkling, unwilling to confirm or deny.  A flash of amusement appeared in the professor’s expression.  Snape went back into his office, but left the door open behind him, so Harry followed.  

Setting his teacup down, the professor leaned against his desk and carefully opened the present, careful not to tear the paper.  Harry bit his bottom lip lightly, wondering if the reason for that was because of his neat nature, or for the same reason that Harry did - because for him, gifts were rare, wonderful things.

Harry privately vowed to make sure Snape always got a least one gift from here on out.

Eventually all the paper was gone, and the title _The Most Famous Wizarding Mentors: From Merlin to Crowley_ was clearly visible.  For a moment, the professor simply stood, looking down at it, before turning his gaze from Harry.  The look in his eyes was both warm and slightly calculating, and Harry knew he’d understood, and was pleased that Harry had gotten his message in the first place.  “Thank you, Mr. Potter.”  

“You’re welcome, sir.”  Harry grinned at him, knowing his professor probably wouldn’t and wanting to smile enough for both of them.  “If you’ll excuse me, I should get back before Draco panics because he doesn’t know where I am.”

The amused eyebrow was back, and Snape nodded almost conspiratorially.  “You should hurry back then, for the good of the entire house.”

Harry gave a little salute, and inwardly cheered when the professor’s lips twitched.  “Yes, sir!”  He waved and then slipped out the door back towards the passageway, feeling much better.

The next couple of days passed, and there weren’t anymore attacks, nor were there any scary whispers.  Harry, Pansy and Draco had done their best to try and track down the diary, using Harry’s strange ability to hear it, but no such luck.  As Harry had discovered before even coming to Hogwarts, a closed trunk and a couple of layers of clothes were all it took to block his ability to sense it.

It was still a mystery why the diary had been thrown away in the first place, however.  It was possible that whoever had it had caught it in a lie, or maybe had simply had enough of the way it dragged them into it’s memories.  Pansy had even posed the idea that maybe the way it answered questions wasn’t it’s true purpose, but simply a cover-up or a side effect of it’s main goal.  That meant that it could have been abandoned for any reason at all, so long as it was negative.

Harry privately thought that maybe it had to do with the possibility that it could get into people’s heads and change things, but neither Pansy nor Draco looked like they had thought of that, and Harry didn’t want to think to hard on the idea if he could help it.  It as all he could do not to second guess every decision he made already.  No need to try and make it worse.

One evening, Harry, Draco and Pansy made their way to the Great Hall to find the professor’s table to be slightly longer than normal.  On Dumbledore’s left sat the Minister of Magic, and next to him was Lucius Malfoy.  Both tracked the group as they made their way to the Slytherin table - Fudge had his eyes trained on Harry, while Lucius was watching Draco.

Before dinner arrived, the Headmaster stood, and the Hall went silent.  Slowly, he explained that Hagrid had been put on house arrest under suspicion of having been the person to open the Chamber of Secrets.  Fudge interjected at one point that Hagrid had been found guilty last time, but he had been cut off - in a amazingly polite manner - by Dumbledore, who simply warned students to stay away Hagrid’s hut for the time being but not to panic or to drop their guard.

After that, Fudge was allowed to say his piece, and went on about how the Ministry would keep them safe.  Recognizing it as bullshit, most of the older students went ahead and started talking amongst themselves, whispering furiously to one another stories about how big and scary the mysterious gamekeeper was, and how much sense it made that he was the culprit.  Once the upper years began chatting, the younger students took that as a sign that they could as well, and the majority of Fudge’s speech feel on deaf ears.

“This isn’t going to last long.”  Draco drawled.  “As soon as there’s another attack, they’re going to have to let him go free.”

Snorting, Harry replied, “Hopefully, anyway.  That’s the only good thing that can come from another attack.”  He frowned.  “There hasn’t been anything since the diary was stolen back, though.”

Pansy tapped her fingers on the table.  “Well, there was usually a long break people getting attacked, right?  I hate to say this, but there might be one soon.”

“I hope not, even if that does mean Hagrid’s stuck.”  Harry shuddered, and the other two nodded their agreement.


	9. Bleeding Hearts

Valentine’s Day came in a flurry of charmed hearts with wings fluttering around the castle, little Cupid’s following lovestruck older students around and delivering valentines and Lockhart in powder pink robes.  Harry thought the whole school looked like it had a pink, red and white glittery bomb go off inside of it.  Not to mention the kiss-o-grams, candy-grams, singing-grams and rose-grams were getting a little annoying.  He had woken to find ten bouquets of chocolate roses by his bedside and it put his whole day in a very bitter mood.  Especially since said gift was from a “secret admirer”.  Harry was willing to bet they were all from Pansy trying to pull his chain and half of it made him proud to call her his friend while the other half wanted to smother her with a pillow.

“Honestly,” Blaise drawled as he opened another lace trimmed fuzzy pink heart card.  “It’s all kind of pathetic.”

“Yeah, you look like you’re miserable, Mate.”  Harry shot back, smirking.  

“Happy, Happy Cupid’s Day!  You’ve got love, hoorary! Be kind to a witch or she could be a -- snitch.  Give her a kiss and you won’t miss.  She could be the one!  And now this song is done!”

Harry groaned as he looked over at the Gryffindor table, where all the cheery singing was coming from.  Fred and George had a stack over a foot tall for each of them and it seemed all of their cards were going to belt out off-key, haphazard love songs until the end of time.  When another song burst out of a card, he was ready to stuff bread in his ears just to block out the sound.  If this is what came from love, it could take a hike.  

“Hullo, Harry.”

Harry looked over at Millicent who looked just as embittered as him.  “‘Lo, Milli,” he didn’t want to brag, but he was the only person who got away with calling her that.  “Got the Valentine’s Day blues too?”

“I got a candy-gram from a Hufflepuff boy.  The chocolates had _nuts_ anyone with proper sense knows I’m allergic.”  She dropped down opposite him with a scowl on her face.  “Besides, Valentine’s Day is just an excuse for lovestruck, stupid people to spend inordinate amounts of money on things that don’t even matter and never last.”  She stabbed her fork into a deviled egg and broke it in half before taking a bite.  

“You’re just angry the person you like didn’t send you a valentine!”  Pansy sing-songed, snuggling up against Millicent before getting elbowed to the floor for her efforts.  Pansy pulled herself back up into her spot and smoothed her hair down.  “Well, fine then, be a grump.”

“Happily.”  Millicent took a swallow of her water and set the goblet down.  “I’d rather not have an idiot follow me around anyway.  I have far too many important things to do.”

Pansy frowned at Millicent before turning her attention to Harry.  “What about you, did you get anything special?”

“You mean aside from the ten bunches of chocolate roses you sent me?  Thankfully no.”

“How did you-- I mean.  Ten bunches of roses this is the first I’ve heard of such a thing!”  Pansy took a bite of her macaroni salad to cover up her mistake.  “Someone must have sent you a Valentine.  Anyone?”

Harry shook his head.  “I said no.  And I’m glad.”

Pansy huffed before reaching around a fourth year girl and tapped Draco on the shoulder.  He leaned back to look at her before straightening up and handing her a stack of various pastel shaded cards.  Pansy squeaked happily and flicked through them.  “Boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, boring, _oooo_ \-- Desmond Knox.  He’s that fourth year Ravenclaw, isn’t he?”

Draco didn’t give a verbal reply but nodded his head before swallowing whatever he had been eating.  “He sent me one last year too.  He doesn’t seem to understand I’m not interested.”

“Shame.  He’s cute too.”  Pansy tapped the valentine on top of the pile before handing them back to Draco.  

Harry swallowed a bite of stew before turning to Pansy.  “What about you, did you get anything?”

“I’m glad you asked!  I did!  I got several valentines from mysterious persons and a big box of truffles from a boy in Ravenclaw.  I declined his offer for a date, but the chocolates are going to be delicious.”

Harry rolled his eyes.  He watched as valentine after valentine was delivered to Lockhart and snorted quietly, shaking his head.  Snape who was sitting in the spot next to Lockhart looked livid.  Harry was sure if it had been possible Snape would have loved to set fire to the frilly, colourful monstrosities that were piling on the table by his elbow.

“Um, excuse me?”

Harry turned his eyes away from the head table at the soft voice.  A girl was standing behind him.  He stared at her a moment before he remembered she was Ron’s sister.  “Oh, hello.  Jenny is it?”

“I-It’s Ginny, actually.”  She shifted in place, her freckled face pink and slightly blotchy.  Harry wondered if maybe she was ill.  “A-anyway...”  She delved her hands into the pockets of her robes before pulling out a lopsided, squashed looking card.  Her face turned redder than her hair as she held it out to him.  “This is for you.”

Harry gawked at the card a moment before taking it.  “Um... thanks.”

Ginny nodded up at him, her eyes were wide before she whirled around, her hair fanning out and almost smacking him in the face as she did so before she ran as fast as she could to the Gryffindor table.  Harry stared after her a moment before looking at the card.   _Happy Valentine’s Day, Harry.  I don’t think you’re evil.  I think you’re cute._  Harry stared at it a long moment before shaking his head.  “Girls.”

Draco let out a dry laugh and Harry smiled over at him before taking a bite of his stew and did his best to ignore Pansy’s delighted jabber.

After the study hall that followed lunch came double potions and Harry happily threw himself into his work.  He was glad for the distraction from all the talk of romance as he worked on the rigid, demanding potion.  Today he was working with Millicent, who he found was an excellent, if a little lazy potions partner.

“Have you seen Granger?  I saw her at lunch but she’s not here now.  It’s not like her to miss a class.  She never backs away from a chance to impart her shining knowledge upon us.”

Harry shook his head, stirring his potion in slow, anti-clockwise movements.  “Maybe she’s ill.  You can add the crabgrass now.”

Millicent sprinkled in the ingredient and Harry stirred vigorously for a minute.  Millicent cracked a grin and laughed a little.  “You think she got a hankering for mice again?”

Harry laughed before squeezing in seven drops of squid ink.  “You’re never going to let her live it down, are you?”

“Never.  I guess I’ll swing round the Hospital after class.  If she’s there she’ll want some company.”

Harry leveled a look at Millicent when she tapped her wand against the cauldron to lower the flame levels.  They let the potion simmer.  “Never figured you’d be friends with a Gryffindor.  Especially a Muggle-born.”

“She’s talented.  Not to mention. she has a dry sense of humor like me.  If you ask me, she was Sorted wrong.  Belongs in Ravenclaw, that girl.”  Millicent shrugged before adding the powdered black beetle to the potion watching as it turned lime green.  

“Want me to come with you?”

Millicent squared her shoulders and looked at Harry.  “I’m a big witch, Harry.  I think I can walk to Hospital all by myself, thanks.”

When dinner rolled around, not only was Hermione still missing, but so were Millicent, Neville and Ron.  At first it was somewhat surprising, but Harry figured they’d just managed to get dinner elsewhere, most likely wherever the bushy-haired witch had ended up.  When he asked Draco and Pansy if they knew anything, they agreed with his assessment.

“Maybe she did end up in the Hospital Wing again, and they managed to get around Pomfrey to eat there?”  Pansy offered with a shrug.  “I mean, it’d be hard, but Millicent is with them.”

There were no answers to be found, and so they let the matter rest.  

That evening, Millicent didn’t return by the time Harry went to bed, but that wasn’t terribly unusual either.  Slytherins tended to view rules as ‘only there when I need them’, so curfew tended to get broken with fair regularity.  

When breakfast the next day rolled around, Harry, Draco and Pansy entered the Great Hall to find Millicent hunched over the table, looking darkly at her barely touched plate.  

“How’s Hermione?”  Harry asked, as he sat down next to her.  That got him a glare more fierce than the one she’d been aiming at the table.  The scariest part of her expression wasn’t the scowl, which was a fairly customary thing around her, but the fact that her eyes were just the tiniest bit red.

Draco went even paler as he looked at her, and then turned to look towards the Gryffindor table.  Harry followed his gaze.  Seated so close they were practically leaning on each other were Neville and Ron.  Their third member was conspicuously absent.  In the quiet of the still mostly-empty hall, Harry thought he could hear Neville sniffling.

A terrible thought occurred to Harry, and judging by the looks on Pansy and Draco’s faces, they were coming to the same conclusion.

Stabbing viciously at her food, but still not eating anything, Millicent began muttering, almost too low to hear.  “I didn’t tell anyone, but Granger started to send me notes whenever I sent her cat stuff.  It started with her tearing into me about the gifts, and at first it was like ‘Oh, I’m getting a rise out of the Gryffindor Know-It-All.  How funny’.  But it started to turn into her day, or what she was thinking about at the time.  And she always sounded so smart, but there was kind of an edge under that.  Just a hint of humor.”  By this point Millicent’s eggs looked more like paste than food, and she dropped her fork, looking ill.  “So I started to reply.  It wasn’t a big deal, but... She didn’t care, you know?  Granger did'n- Doesn’t care about stuff like make-up or clothes.  More about customs, or talking about her day or mine.  I just-”  Abruptly, Millicent stood up and made her way to the exit, shoulders hunched to her ears.

Trading stunned, sad looks, Harry, Draco and Pansy went back to their meal.

That afternoon, the three of them made their cautious way into the Hospital Wing.  Madame Promfrey was in her office, but the room seemed full even without her presence.  Many of the beds were filled with students, most of them petrified.  Harry recognized the Hufflepuff that he’d saved from Draco’s snake, and a few of the faces were vaguely familiar, like a small Gryffindor boy who was clutching a camera.

The bed that housed Hermione was flanked on either side by Neville and Ron.  The brunette looked like he was holding back tears, and judging by his face he’d lost a few battles to them already today.  Ron, on the other hand, simply looked defeated as he twirled a mirror.  Hearing the noises of them approaching, the redhead eyed them, and at first Harry thought he’d start yelling at them, more out of grief than anything, but he seemed to deflate a little bit in front of them, and waved them over with a robotic little motion.

“‘Lo,” He greeted, voice quiet, as though the petrified students were merely sleeping, and he was trying not to wake them.  More likely, it was simply an automatic reaction to being in the Hospital Wing.  “I suppose Bulstode told you.”

Draco nodded.  “She did.  I... Sorry.”  He said, sounding like he meant something else entirely but didn’t know how to say it.  Ron nodded back, and Neville sniffed again.

Clearing her throat, Pansy shifted awkwardly.  “Where did they find her?”

The mirror stilled in Ron’s hands, and he clutched at it until his knuckles were nearly white.  After a pause, Neville answered.  “Near the library, just a couple of hallways over.”

The way Hermione’s hand was jutting out looked uncomfortable, Harry thought.  He wondered if whenever the mandrakes were mature and the cure made, Hermione’s arm would hurt from being held out like that.  Eyes darting from Ron’s hands to Hermione’s, Harry asked.  “Was she holding the mirror?”

Ron nodded.  “Yeah, she was.  Dunno why. S’not like she usually had that sort of stuff around.”

A gasp from behind him told Harry Pansy had figured out what he had.  “She knew.”  She hissed.

“Knew what?”  Neville asked, looking up for the first time.

Draco’s face was calculating, but also respecting as he gazed at Hermione.  “She must have figured out what the creature is.  It’s something to do with reflections, I guess.  Why else would he have been looking around with a mirror.”

The expression on Ron’s face went from confused to slightly awed.  “Brilliant, she is.  Figured it out before it got h-her.”  His voice hiccuped on the last word, and he ducked her head.

Okay, it was time to give the Gryffindors privacy.  “She’ll be better soon.  We’ll just...”  He trailed off, and started back towards the exit.  Draco and Pansy followed, and right before the door closed, Harry though he heard Ron let out a little sob.

The three exchanged another look, this one falling dangerously close to overwhelmed.  “Let’s go back to the Common Room.”  Pansy muttered.  “I really don’t want to be in the halls.”

Neither Harry nor Draco had any arguments to that.

Not long after that, Dumbledore was forced to step down as Headmaster.  Most of the school took that as a shook, but for Slytherin it was no surprise.  Most of the snakes either were neutral towards the Headmaster, or their parents had been directly against him.  And, really, the man had been in charge when a monster broke out and started attacking students.  Someone needed to take the fall.

From then a new set of rules were strictly enforced - no wandering around the halls without a teacher, no one was allowed out of the dormitories after dinner and all outside clubs were put on  hold.  Harry milled around the Common Room, waiting for Snape to drop off the latest group of students.  When the wall parted, he darted over.  “Professor, can you take Pansy, Draco and I to the library?  We need to do some work for Care of Magical Creatures.”

Snape’s mouth drew into a thin line and he eyed Harry before sighing.  “Very well.  You three will have an hour and thirty minutes and are to remain in view of Madame Pince when not gathering books.  When you do leave the table in order to gather a book if necessary, the three of you are to remain together, do I make myself clear?”

The three students nodded vehemently and Snape nodded sharply before leading them out into the hall.  His hand was wrapped around his wand firmly and while it was quickly becoming a normal sight to see the adults of Hogwarts openly brandishing their wands, it still made him uncomfortable.  Finally they were deposited to the library and Snape turned, leaving them alone save for a few other older students who had braved leaving their dormitories.  The group advanced to the circulation desk and Harry cleared his throat softly, making Madame Pince look up in irritation.

“Excuse me...”  Harry offered a smile but it came out uneasy.  “Could you please tell us what books Hermione Granger was looking at when she was last here?”

“Granger... Granger... Ah!  The intelligent, well-mannered young Gryffindor girl.”  The librarian bustled off a moment flicking her wand.  Before long a stack of books, at least twenty books high floated beside her.  “Here you are.  Why don’t you take a seat over there.”

When they sat down at the table the pile of books was waiting for them and each one of them took a book before starting to read.  The time wore on and they had no luck finding anything and it was coming close to the time Snape was going to pick them up and Harry was beginning to panic.  He didn’t want anything to happen to anymore students.  He loved Hogwarts too much to lose it.  Several times Draco suggested the creature was a Gorgon, to which Pansy would dryly answer that the people weren’t being turned into stone.

“I’ve got it!”

Pansy looked over her book with tired relief.  “What is it then?”

“Well, I don’t know exactly...”  Harry looked sheepish.  “The page has been ripped out.”

Draco groaned.  “That could have been anyone!”

“Not true!”  Pansy opened her book to the cover and slid it over to Draco.  “You know how powerful the charms are to prevent damage.  I bet Hermione could have countered it.”

Draco eyed the warnings before looking to Harry.  “Alright then, she could have dropped the page anywhere.  Where do you suggest we start looking?”

Harry frowned and stacked the books into a pile again, watching as they floated off.  “Hermione’s hands!  One was holding the mirror.  The other was in a fist.  She must have had the page in her hand!”

“We can’t go into the Hospital.  It’s off limits now.”

Harry frowned.  He noticed Snape approaching down the aisles.  “I think I need to use my Cloak.  I’ll go tonight.”

After they were led back to the dormitories Harry lay in bed.  He listened to the others slowly fall asleep before he got out of bed and pulled on his cloak.  He clutched his wand tightly as he exited the Common Room.  The halls were heavily shadowed and he tried to ignore the fear inside of him that told him around every corner could be his death.  If he died, Snape would kill him.  Again.  

He reached the Hospital and advanced slowly, glued to the wall.  When he slipped inside the thankfully open door he pocketed his wand.  He stopped beside Hermione’s bed, grateful for the privacy partitions and lowered the cloak.  He smiled sadly at Hermione before he looked at her fisted hand.  He could just see the edge of paper sticking out from behind her thumb.  He allowed himself a moment to feel smug - he had been right - before he set to the task of silently wrestling it out of Hermione’s hand.  

After a good half an hour Harry finally wrenched the page out of her grasp.  He peered down at it, but couldn’t make out the words.  Folding up the page he stuffed it in the pocket of his jeans before pulling his cloak back on and heading out back to the dungeons.  A few times he heard Professor McGonagall’s voice chatting with someone and he ducked to avoid running into her.  Before long he was back in the Slytherin Common Room and in his bed.  

“Did you get it?”

Harry nearly toppled sideways out of bed at the low whisper of Draco’s voice.  “Yeah.”

He heard Draco move and the curtain of his bed parted and Draco  peered inside before climbing in and shutting the curtain.  “Let’s see what this bloody thing is then?”

Harry nodded and watched quizzically as Draco muttered a few spells before lighting the tip of his wand like a flashlight.  “What were those for?”

“So people don’t hear us talking.  So, let’s see.”

Harry pulled out the page and lit his own wand with a quiet _lumos_ before holding the page up.  “Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents... Murderous stare... crowing of a rooster...”

“That’s why you can hear it!  It’s a snake!”  Draco stabbed a finger at the page.  “No wonder you’ve been hearing things. You’ve been listening in on the Basilisk.  That’s why Slytherin could control it, he was a Parselmouth.”

“It also explains the roosters.”

“Yeah!  Wait, what?”

“Hagrid was finding dead roosters, remember?  It’s the one of the only things that can kill a Basilisk.”

Draco gave a nod.  “Well then...”  He paused a moment, thinking.  “How come no one’s dead yet?  If it kills you by looking at you, shouldn’t people be dead?”

Harry frowned.  “Dunno, we’ll have to ask Pansy in the morning.”

“Right.  Well, I’m going to bed.”  Draco reversed the spells on Harry’s bed before stepping out.

“Been snogging, you two?”

“Shut up, Blaise!”  

“Ow!  That stinging jinx went right in my eye!”

“Serves you right.”

Harry stifled his laughter before rolling over in bed and went to sleep feeling accomplished.

The next day, Draco and Harry showed Pansy the page, and explained what they’d figured out.  “The mirror!”  She breathed.

“What are you on about?”

Kicking Draco lightly, Pansy tapped her finger on the paper.  “Hermione had the mirror, remember?  She must have seen it’s reflection.”  She paused, thinking about it.  “That’s it, it has to be!  The hall was flooded when Mrs. Norris was petrified, remember?  There were all those puddles?  She must have seen it on the ground.”

Thinking about it, Harry began to nod.  “That one Gryffindor boy had the camera - he must have seen it through the lens.  What about the Hufflepuff bloke - what did he see the Basilisk through?”

Pale fingers snatched the paper up, and Draco started scanning the paper again.  “He was with the Gryffindor ghost, wasn’t he?  The fellow with whose head is nearly off.”  Groaning, he pushed the paper away.  “It doesn’t say anything else about killing it.  It’s even magic resistant.  How is it getting around?”

Poking at where he could see the indent of writing on the page, Harry replied.  “Hermione figured that one out.  It’s in the pipes.”

“So it could just come out of the loo?”  Pansy looked ill, and Harry couldn’t blame her.  The idea made him feel awful as well.

Draco sighed and crumpled the paper even more.  “It’s really been dumb luck that no one has died yet.”

That made Pansy look thoughtful.  “What about last time?  Did anyone get hurt?  They must have, to known that it was open, right?”

A harsh little breath escaped Harry as he thought on that.  “Wait, wait.  In the diary - and I know, it could be lying, but... Tom was watching them take out a dead body.  It was a girl, I think.  I didn’t actually see her, mind.  There was a sheet over her, but... She wasn’t very tall, kind of young.  And where I saw her...”  He trailed off again.

Trading glances with Pansy, Draco said, “Harry, calm down.  You’re not making any sense.”

“It was on the third floor when she died, I think.”  He choked out, eyes wide.

Still not getting it, Pansy shook her head.  “That’s terrible, but I don’t see why you’re so worked up.”

Harry waved a hand up towards the rest of the castle.  “What if she _never left_?”

Gasps of understanding came from Pansy and Draco.  Before they could figure out more, the door opened and Snape came in, followed by McGonagall.  He looked absolutely livid, but there was something driving that anger.  It took Harry a moment to realize that there was fear in his eyes as well.  “Is anyone missing?”  He snapped out, looking around.  His eyes landed on Harry and stayed there for just a second before continuing to rake.

The members of Slytherin glanced about, trying to see if they could spot all their friends.  Finally, someone spoke.  “I haven’t seen Nott today, I don’t think.”  Blaise answered, voice quiet.

Dark eyes narrowed.  “Check your room.  Now!”  Blaise ran up the stairs, eyes wide and scared, and returned a moment later.  

“He’s not there.”

Whispers erupted in the Common Room, and Snape’s nostrils flared.  Behind him, McGonagall made a sad, choked little sound.

The three professors stood there for one moment that seemed to go on forever, before Snape spoke.  “If Mr. Nott shows up, you are to keep him here and notify the prefects, who have ways of contacting me.”  He nodded towards one of the fifth year prefects, who looked pale at the responsibility.  Without another word, Snape turned on his heel and stalked off.

Right before the passageway closed, McGonagall began speaking.  “The message, Severus. ‘ _His skelet-_ ’”  Whatever the message was got cut off, but it was more than enough to fuel the panicked conversation of the students.


	10. Snakes and Ladders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Moderate Fantasy Violence

Slowly, Harry turned to look at Pansy and Draco.  Before either could say something, Harry dashed up to his dorm.  The other followed him up, and caught him digging through his trunk until he came away with the cloak.

“Harry,”  Pansy began, but was cut off by a wave from Harry’s hand.

Serious green eyes peered up at her.  “I don’t plan on doing anything stupidly Gryffindor, okay?  I just want to talk to Myrtle and get some confirmation.  If we take it to the professors, and we’re wrong, Nott might die, okay?”

Draco gave a huff that sounded suspiciously like ‘if he’s not already dead’ before nodding.  “Let’s just do this quickly, okay?  Before something happens and we end up dead instead of Nott.”

The three disappeared under the cloak and slipped out the passageway.  The halls were almost eerily silent, and they didn’t run into a single professor on the way.  It was almost painful for Harry to see Hogwarts this way.  It made him think of the school as a husk or a skeleton. Suppressing a shudder, he shook his head and focused on keeping listening for the Basilisk.  
Once they reached the third floor bathroom, the three students froze, and Harry let the cloak drop to the thankfully dry ground.

Below the message about the Chamber opening was a new line, this one no less chilling.

 _His skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever._

“We should get a teacher.”  Draco murmured, and Harry nodded slowly.  This was way out of their league.

Pansy gestured down the hall.  “Professor Lockhart’s office is right over there.”

A snort escaped Harry.  “We should get an actual professor.”  He replied scathingly.

Stamping her foot, Pansy jerked her head towards the message.  Harry purposefully did not look at it.  “I know he’s a bit of a prat, but he did write all of those books!  Right now he’s the closest, and he’s the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.  If anyone is qualified to face a Basilisk, it’s probably him.”

The logic of that was overwhelming, but Harry still didn’t like it.  Eventually, Draco grabbed his arm and tugged him down the hall.  “She’s right, Harry.  He has to be good for something to do all those things.”

They reached Lockhart’s door and knocked.   The hurried noises from within stopped suddenly, and the door was opened just enough to see the man’s eyes.  “What in Merlin’s name are you three doing here?”

“We have some information that you really need right now.”  Pansy told him, eyes fierce.  

Lockhart blinked at them, and then opened his door for them to come in.  “Alright, get in here, quickly then.”

Inside were a few trunks, all of which were open.  Various things were sitting inside, with more waiting to be put in as well.  All in all, it looked like someone was doing a hurried job of packing.

Suspicion grew in the eyes of the three students, and Draco whirled on him.  “Going somewhere then?”  He sneered, eyes narrowing dangerously.

“U-urgent call, my boy.  You know how it is.  I simply cannot-”

“It’s our housemate your trying to abandon.”  Harry snarled, his own gaze made of green fire.  “What could be more important than a dying student?”

Stuttering, Lockhart held up his hands.  “Well, when I took this job, you see... I didn’t think- I mean there was nothing like this... My contract.”

“So you’re running away?”  Pansy asked, biting her lower lip.  She looked sorry she’d ever stood up for the man.  “But all the stuff in your books...”

An awkward chuckle from Lockhart fell on unamused ears.  “You really shouldn’t believe everything you read, you know.”

A furious noise came from deep in Harry’s chest.  “ _You_ wrote them!”

Lockhart whirled on Harry, his face scornful.  “Oh, please.  The public is a fickle thing, Harry, I’ve told you that.  They don’t want the truth - they want a pretty little lie.  A lie with a brilliant smile.  My books wouldn’t have sold near so well if I just put down what actually happened.  So some ugly old warlock in America took care of the skin-walker, or a German witch is the one who took on the vampires.  Who cares about them?!  They didn’t even want the fame, the idiots.”

“You’ve been taking credit for what other people have done this whole time.”  Draco murmured, looking like he didn’t know if he should be more impressed or disgusted.

Spinning around, Lockhart kept his back to the students.  “Obviously!  It’s not as easy as it sounds, of course.  You have to track down everyone who knows about it, get all the details right.  All it would take is one person coming forward to say that I hadn’t been the person to take care of the monster to bring everything down around my ears.  Lucky for me, there is one spell I’m very good at.”

Suddenly, Lockhart spun on his heel, wand extended, mouth open to shout a curse.

He found three wands trained on him, held by three steady hands.

“ _Expelliarmus_!”  Pansy shrieked, and Lockhart’s wand flew neatly into her hand.  “Is the irony of this painful to you?”  She asked, voice light and mocking.  “Oh, and your smile?  It’s really not that great.”

The three lead Lockhart towards Myrtle’s bathroom, whispering urgently between them.  “We don’t have time to wait any longer.  Nott could be dying right now.”  Harry insisted.

Pansy jabbed her wand at Lockhart, who gave a pained grunt and glared at her.  “But he’ll be absolutely useless.”

“Well, we can use him as a meat shield.”  Draco drawled, looking like he very much enjoyed the way Lockhart flinched at his words.

They reached the bathroom, and Harry shrugged at them, motions jerky in frustration.  “There is no time to try and find another professor. We need to go now.”  With that he stalked forward, ushering the man in front of him.

Behind him, Harry heard Draco snarl.  “Again!  Just like bloody last year!”  Before they followed him in, looking displeased but determined.

Hearing the commotion, Myrtle floated out of her stall.  “Look who’s back.  What do you want?”

“How did you die, Myrtle?”  Harry asked, not wanting to waste time trying to work her up.

The ghost tossed her head, looking irritated.  “What a thing to ask!”  The look quickly bled away into something almost gleeful.  Clearly, she had been waiting for someone to ask for a long time.  “It was absolutely dreadful, you know.  I was in here, crying, because that awful Olive Hornby was making fun of me.  Mocking my glasses.”  Myrtle sniffed disdainfully.  “Then I heard the sound of somebody coming in.  I didn’t want anyone around while I was crying, obviously, so I opened to the door to tell them to leave.  Especially since it was a boy.  What he was even doing in the girl’s room I have no idea.  He was speaking some weird words, like another language - that’s how I could tell.  So I opened the stall door.”  She took a dramatic, shaky breath, which was odd to see on a ghost.  “And then I died.”

Draco clicked his tongue impatiently.  “How, Myrtle?”

Making a motion like an angry stamp, which lost a lot of it’s meaning in the air, Myrtle’s voice became the quietest Harry had ever heard.  “I don’t know.  All I saw were a pair of great yellow eyes.  And then I was dead.”  She made that high-pitched wail again.  “I remember feeling like I was floating and sort of seizing up.  I wanted to stay, you see, if only to haunt Olive Hornby and make her sorry for making fun of my glasses.”

“The eyes, Myrtle.  Where did you see them?”  Pansy asked, voice sharp.

A ghostly hand pointed towards the sink.  “Over there.”  She sighed.

Ignoring Lockhart, who was muttering darkly and indistinctly under his breath about brats and stupid adventures, Harry turned to look at the sinks.  He ran his fingers over all of it, looking for a latch or something to open them, but nothing.  

Then he noticed it.  On one of the taps, scratched into the copper, was a tiny snake.

Remembering Draco’s words about being able to hear the Basilisk because of his ability to speak Parseltongue, Harry concentrated, now glad he’d been so quick to use it to scare those who thought he was the Heir.  It had given him a lot of practice in calling it up on a a whim.

“ ** _Open_**.”  He commanded.

Draco’s hand gripped Harry’s arm at the sound, and pulled him back a step.  The sink began to glow a bright white, and slowly began to spin.  The movement revealed a dark hole, big enough for a person to slide down, and far to shadowed to see where it led.

They could only presume it would take them to the Chamber of Secrets.

“You first.”  Pansy snapped, and yanked Lockhart in front of her before pushing.  The man’s yelp could be heard, becoming tiny and echoed as he traveled.  Finally, they heard the impact of him hitting the bottom, and his disgruntled curses.  

Draco eyed her fondly.  “I guess it’s safe enough then.  Not that Harry here needs confirmation before he jumps down dark trap doors into the unknown.”

The second sacrificed to punch Draco on the shoulder was well worth it, and then Harry slid down the hole himself.

It was hard to see in the dark, and even harder to keep track of what direction he was going.  It was rather like a very long, very slimy slide, and Harry resolved never to go on one of those Muggle water slide rides.  Ever.  Various other pipes branched off or the main one, but they were all too small for a person to fit through, and so Harry kept his limbs as far from them as he could, not wanting to get caught and end up short a hand or foot.

He was now going at a speed that made him rather nervous about hitting the end, but the slide leveled out at the bottom, and instead he flew out at a more sane angle, hitting the floor with a jarring but not damaging wet impact.

The sound of Draco’s scream became more distinct, before he too came out the end.  Harry rolled out of the way just in time to avoid being squished and then grabbed the blonde and tugged him back.  Pansy was next, shrieking and flailing before landing with a wet sounding splat.   “You owe us.”  She grumbled as she slowly sat up.

“So very much.”  Draco agreed, voice dry, but he didn’t move from where Harry had dragged him so they were pressed together.  Finally, he groaned and stood up, and Harry, his arm now freed, gave a shrug.

Pulling out his wand, Harry nodded to where their voices were.  “Well, the sooner we get moving, the sooner you get your pay.”  With a flick of his wand, he cast ‘lumos’.

The light did very little to help, as though the darkness was actively fighting being banished.  He could see they were in something like a passageway, that the walls were made of stone and had more cracks and areas that were breaking off than Harry was comfortable with.  The floor was covered in muck which Harry had no desire to further investigate

“Where do you suppose we are?  I couldn’t track it, other than to know where are way below the Common Room.”  Harry turned to see Pansy and Draco, who were looking around like him, and Lockhart, who was trying to wipe the floor slime out of his hair.

A snort came from Draco.  “Deep?  Brilliant deduction, Potter.”  Harry rolled his eyes at him.  “I think we ended up below the lake, at least.  We could be directly under the dorms.”

The three stopped to consider that creepy idea, before Pansy pointed at Lockhart.  “You, c’mon.  Let’s go then.”  She seemed determined to make up for every time she’d defended or complimented him by being extra vicious now.

With Lockhart leading, in only the most literal sense of the word, they started down the hallway.  Luckily it was a straight line, with no branching corridors to wonder about.

When Harry turned one particularly dark turn, the shape of Lockhart in front of casting odd shadows, the man gave a shriek that was less voice and more air and stumbled back into Draco.  His view clear, Harry could now see something huge and curved a head of him, and canceled the spell with a hissed ‘nox’.  “The monster.”  Draco breathed.

One heartbeat passed, and then another.  The shape didn’t move.  Cautiously, Harry raised his wand back up, and recast ‘lumos’.

Now that he wasn’t so startled about it, Harry could tell it was not, in fact, the monster.  Instead it was a snake skin.  The empty husk was disturbingly long, and the tail disappeared into the dark.  It was a green that made Harry think of some of the stronger poisons he’d seen in potions book.  After a moment he because aware that his breath was coming in fearful pants, and forced himself to take a deep, calming lungful.

It didn’t help.

“Let’s keep moving.”  He said, taking a few careful steps forward.  Behind him, he heard Lockhart hit the wall, and glanced back to see him leaning against it, looking shaken.

Pansy was having none of that.  “Oh no you don’t.”  She snarled, brandishing her wand at him and making to grab him.  

In one violent action, Lockhart snatched Pansy’s wrist and twisted to press her against the wall with one hand.  He glared down at her.  “Bad move, girl.”  His voice took on a dramatic tone.  “Oh, how sad that I was too late to save the boy.  Just as sad is how these children lost their minds at the sight of it.  My job is not for the weak of heart, I’m afraid.”  With another abrupt movement, he snatched his wand from where it was poking slightly out of Pansy’s robe pocket and tossed her to the ground.

Just as Lockhart raised his wand to Draco, Pansy brandished her own at him, letting out a scream of fury mixed with terror.  A blast of power erupted from her wand, closer to accidental magic than the controlled sort taught at Hogwarts.  It hit Lockhart just as he spat out “Obliv-” and threw him violently against the wall.  His impact, along with the blast, caused a deep cracking sound to ring out.  For one long moment there was silence as everyone held their breath.    
And then the ceiling collapsed.  From Harry’s perspective, it looked like Draco, Pansy and Lockhart all disappeared under a rain of rock and dust.

It took a few minutes before Harry was able to speak, rather than cough up dust.  “Draco!”  His voice was raspy, but loud, his fear for his friend’s overriding his fear of the monster.  “Pansy!”

As the last rumbles and cracks of the settling passageway died away, Harry could hear coughing on the other side of the rockfall.  “Harry?”  Draco’s voice finally came.

“Are you guys alright?”  He asked, getting as close to the rock as he could and starting to push the smaller ones away, trying to make a hole.  There weren’t many of those.

A moment of silence passed, before Pansy replied.  “We are.  Lockhart got hit pretty hard, though.  He’s still... oh, wait, never mind, I think he’s waking up now.”  Harry could just barely hear the sound of an impact, and Lockhart giving a little cry of pain.  She’d probably kicked him.  Hard.  “Yeah, he’s awake.  But he’s out of it, so we’re okay.”

There was a pause, before Draco spoke up again, his voice slow and quiet, like he was trying to soothe a frightened animal.  “Now, Harry.  Let’s see about getting through this blockade.  You stay right there, and-”

Harry shook his head, but then realized how futile that was an spoke.  “No, Draco.  You guys work your way through for a bit, see if you can.  I’ll go and meet up with Nott.  He might be hurt.”  He paused and swallowed.  “If- If I’m not back in an hour, see about trying to get back up, okay?  There’s got to be a way out.”

A small murmur of “Harry...” from Pansy made him pause, but instead he started back.  “I’ll see you guys in a bit.”

“Harry!”  That was Draco again, and his voice sounded frantic.  “You stay safe, okay?  Nott... It’d be awful if something happened to him, but you... You have a self-preservation instinct.  Use it.  No matter what that means.  If something happened to you...”  He made a noise that sounded like he’d bitten back a sob, and Harry bit his bottom lip.

He took another step away, trying to distance himself a bit from both his and his friend’s emotions.  “I will.”  It was a lie.  It was a painfully clear lie.  If he had that instinct, he wouldn’t be doing this in the first place.  But no one called him on it, so Harry made his way farther down the hall.

The tunnel went on longer than Harry had imagined it would, and every part of his body seemed on edge.  He kept taking deep breaths to try and control his nerves, but that didn’t stop him from jumping at the occasional dripping noise.

Finally, he came to a huge door.  Well, a door was being generous.  In actuality, it was a solid wall, with serpents intertwining from the edges.  Sensing a theme, Harry opened his mouth, and cleared it.  His mouth was suddenly dry, and he had to swallow a few times before he spoke.  

After a moment’s concentration, Harry hissed, “ _Open_.”

The snakes untangled themselves, their emerald eyes flashing in a way that was almost sentient, and revealed a huge room.  There was a layer of water over the most of it, as the floor seemed to slant out on the ends.  Huge, towering columns held up the high ceiling, and Harry had the sinking feeling that they had fallen far deeper than he had suspected.  

He began walking, trying to spot Nott.  His ears strained for even the slightest noise, prepared to dart behind any sort of cover the moment he heard the sound of slithering.  When he made his way in deeper, he realized one column that been blocking his view of the other end of the chamber.   Harry was unable to stop a little gasp of breath from escaping.

On the far side, immortalized in ancient stone, was the face of Salazar Slytherin.  Well, Harry didn’t actually know it was Slytherin, but who else could it be?  The face was older than Harry and thought it would be, for some reason.  How old had the founders been when Salazar split off?  For that matter, how old had then been when they made Hogwarts?

Harry realized he head been craning his neck to look all the way up at the figure, and lowered his gaze back to the floor.  In front of the statue, lying still and silent, was the prone form of Theodore Nott.

“Nott!”  He hissed, dashing over and dropping to his knees beside the other boy.  “Wake up!  He flipped Nott over, but he just remained limp and still.  Harry, feeling frantic, slapped gently at the boy’s face.  “C’mon, you can’t be...”  He swallowed, the word bitter on his tongue.  Nott’s face was cold and clammy, but still felt like skin, which meant he wasn’t Petrified.  But being that cold couldn’t be healthy.

“He won’t get up, you know.”  The voice was dryly amused, and Harry jumped, nearly chocking on his shocked gasp.  He whirled around to see a tall, handsome boy, watching them.

It took a moment for Harry to recognize him.  “Tom.  Tom Riddle.”

Tom nodded and a tiny smirk played on his face, but his eyes remained trained on Harry’s face, like he was looking for something.

Confusion mixed with the fear, and Harry clenched his hands to stop them from shaking.  “How are you...”  He swallowed, then shook his head.  “I can deal with you later.  Nott... he won’t get up?  Is he dead?” He forced the last word out.  It was a strong possibility - it was better to face up to that than to be paralyzed by it.

There was an element of pleasure in Tom’s voice as he replied, “Not yet.  But very nearly.”

Harry turned to more fully face Tom, thinking hard.  “You’re just a memory.  Or, I thought you were.  Even if you are still alive, you’d be far older.  How is it that you’re here?”

“The diary, Harry.  I’ve been preserved in it.”  He gestured to the book, which was lying not far from Nott.  Harry gave a thought to getting it, but it seemed like a waste.

Shaking his head, he wrapped his arms around Nott, trying to pick the other boy up.  It was a futile struggle - Nott was taller and heavier than him.  “Whatever you are, you need to help.  There has got to be a way to get out of here.”

A disappointed sigh escaped Tom, and Harry stopped his struggles to look at him again.  “First of all, have you forgotten that you’re a a wizard?”  That stilled Harry, and he reached for his wand.  It was missing.  

Tom took his hand out from behind his back, Harry’s wand firmly in his grip.  Harry stared at him for a moment, not even bothering to try to ask for it.  He’d seen that expression before on Dudley’s face.

There was no way Tom was going to give it back.  

“What do you want, Tom?”  Harry finally asked, eyes sharp.

Tom’s pleasant expression turned into a sarcastic one.  “Many things.”

Oh, lovely.  It was going to be that sort of game.  “Fine, be that way.  How did Nott get this way?”

That seemed to please Tom.  “Ahh, that is a much better question.  The simple answer is that young Theodore here abandoned his Slytherin traits in the face in the face of emotion.  Poor boy, didn’t get on the Quidditch team.  Boo-hoo.  So he goes through the star Seeker’s things, looking for blackmail material or something that would help him get on during the next tryouts.  That part I approve of, mind you.  Not a bad plan at all.  But little Theodore found a blank diary, and instead of moving on, he kept it to pour his heart into.”  Tom scoffed.

Glancing down at Nott, Harry frowned.  “And you wrote back.”

“Ah, five points from Slytherin for stating the obvious.  Of course I wrote back.  The interesting part is what I said.  I soothed the boy.  ‘You are too good enough to get on the team!’, I told him.  ‘You are as good as Harry Potter, no doubt in my mind!’”

Impatience made him want to roar, but Harry replied, “So, what, you showed him your memories?”

Tom’s smirk grew.  “Oh, much more than that.  Have you ever heard of putting your heart and soul in a book, Harry?  Because magic has a funny way of making those sort of things literally.  The more Theodore told me his fears and secrets, the more my power grew.  And the more power I had, the more control I had.”

The look he leveled at Harry was expectant, but all the smaller boy did was shake his head.  “I don’t-”

“Honestly, it’s not that hard.”  Tom snapped.  “All those things that have been happening?  The roosters, the attacks, the messages.  Every last one of them was preformed by Mr. Nott here.”  Tom gestured at the prone boy, the movement abrupt.  “Not that he knew what he was doing, of course.  I was in control then.  But, while everyone was thinking you were the Heir of Slytherin, it was really I, by way of Theodore.”  

His smirk became vicious, and he gave a smile that belonged on a shark.  “It was a lot of fun, in the beginning.  ‘Today I woke up with feathers in my bed.  I don’t know where they came from.’  ‘I keep having these blackouts, Tom.  There are times I can’t remember.’  ‘Another attack happened today.  I don’t know where I was when it happened..’  The stupid boy was a such a loss, and he simply did not want to believe it could possibly be him.”

Swallowing, Harry hissed, “It was you all those years ago as well, wasn’t it?  You framed Hagrid.”

The memory gave a careless little shrug.  “Someone needed to take the fall, and it was the word of well liked top student versus the big scary oaf.  Of course Dippet believed me.  Excepting Dumbledore, who was always a suspicious bastard when it came to me, everyone believed me.  Just like your friend did when we talked.”

Realization hit Harry, and he narrowed his eyes at the memory.  “But he fought you, didn’t he?  Managed to shake you off for a while.”

Tom’s face twisted, but he nodded.  “Yes, he a bit of a rebellious phase there, didn’t he?  But in the end, that worked out for the better.  Because I got to met you, Harry Potter.”

Gulping, Harry responded, “Me?”

A harsh bark of laughter escaped Tom.  “Oh, don’t be so modest!  It doesn’t become a Slytherin at all.  Yes, you.  The more I heard about you, the more interesting you became. So I just had to met you, and wasn’t my luck the best!”

“What did you want with me?”  Harry snapped.

“Oh, come now, Harry.  What does everyone want with you?  What’s the first thing everyone asks about?  What’s the reason everyone puts up with you?”  Harry’s hand made it’s way almost involuntarily to his scar.  “That’s right!  Now, ask again, Harry.  What do I want?”

There was silence, until Harry finally obliged, growling out, “What do you want?”

The smile on Tom’s face was nearly serene, but his eyes were intense.  “To understand!  To understand how a little runt like you could defeat the most powerful wizard of all time!”

“Dumbledore?”  Harry asked, voice mockingly light and innocent.  It wasn’t necessarily the wisest thing he’d ever done but it was certainly one of the most satisfying.  And every Slytherin knew that anger was a great way to knock an opponent off balance.

A snarl that was more animal than human escaped Tom.  “Don’t play that game with me.”  He hissed.  “I’m talking about Lord Voldemort!  How did you manage to destroy his powers and get away with nothing but an ugly little scar?  You have no extraordinary talent, no great way about you.  So explain to me!   _How_?”

Harry noticed that Tom’s eyes seemed to be gleaming red and scooted back, trying his best to block Tom’s view of Nott with his own body.  “What business of it is yours?”

A frustrated little noise escaped the memory.  “It’s my business more than anyone!  More than yours, even.  “It’s my past, my future.”

Swallowing, a suspicion came to Harry’s mind, and he automatically started to shake his head no.  “Oh yes, Harry Potter.”  Tom’s voice was smooth and his eyes burned.  He started writing on the air with Harry’s wand.   _TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE_ hung in the air, the letters glowing softly.  With a little flick, they rearranged themselves.

 _I AM LORD VOLDEMORT_           

“Was I supposed to keep my filthy father’s name forever?” Tom snapped out.  “Remained tied to the man who abandoned me before I took my first breath of air?  When, on my mother’s side, the blood of Salazar Slytherin flowed through my veins?  Of course I didn’t.  It start out as a nickname here at Hogwarts, just with my friends.  But I knew that someday it would become something every witch and wizard would become afraid to speak.  And I was right, wasn’t I?  Even now the people don’t dare invoke my title.   Further proof that I became the most powerful sorcerer there was.”

Harry snorted, just because he knew it would piss Tom off more.  “I already told you,  Dumbledore is the most powerful.”

Fury clouded Tom’s face, and Harry hoped it clouded his mind as well.  “Dumbledore has been driven off!  And not even by me, but by my mere memory.”

“Now who’s not acting like a Slytherin.”  Harry shot back.  “Removing Dumbledore from Hogwarts doesn’t make him defeated.  It hardly even lessens his power here.  In the people who are loyal to him, and all the influence he has, you’ve maybe slowed him down.  Ten minutes, tops.”

Tom made that furious snarling sound again, but before he could reply coherently, the sound of music filled the chamber.

A bird, about the size of a swan, flew in.  It was bright crimson and as it approached the strange music got louder.  In it’s talons was an old battered hat, which Harry recognized to be the one that sorted the First Years.

It took only a few moments for the bird to reach them, and it swooped at Harry, dropping the hat into his lap and then landing on his shoulder.  It gave a loud trill, and something about the sound it made calmed Harry.  One it had finished it’s song, it turned towards Tom, beady dark eyes and sharp beak both flashing in the gloomy lighting.

“A phoenix.”  Riddle stated, narrowing his eyes at it.

Harry stared at it for a moment, confused as to what a bird would be doing down here.  It’s talons squeezed gently at his shoulder, like it was trying to reassure Harry.

Slowly, Riddle began chuckling, the sound dark.  “A hat and a songbird.  Don’t you feel special, Harry Potter!  These are the great weapons that Albus Dumbledore sends to the one who defended him!”  Harry really wasn’t sure his words counted as defending, but wasn’t about to argue any help at all.  It was better than being alone and wandless.

Eventually, Riddle stopped his laughing, focusing back on Harry.  “Let’s get down to it then, shall we?  According to Theodore, you had defeated me as a baby. Now, you’re going to explain that to me, Harry.  And the more detail you give me, the longer you live.”

Harry glanced back at Nott.  Every moment he sat here was another moment he got closer to death.  Tom, on the other hand, was looking stronger, more solid.  And now he was trying to manipulate Harry into stalling for him.

A nice try, really, but Harry would rather get started as soon as possible, thanks.

“When it comes down to it,”  Harry replied, copying Tom’s easy, amused tone from before.  “My mother was just better than you.  She died to save me, and that was all it took.  Really, I don’t see what the big deal was.  I've seen the real you.  Kind of pathetic, having to be a parasite on the back of a school teacher.  And then there’s you.  Just a memory, but just as pathetic and foul as well.”

Tom scowled at him, face twisted, but the corners contorted themselves up in a parody of a smile.  “Ah, so your mother sacrificed herself.  That would be a powerful aid to you.  So, there really is nothing special about you.  I had wondered, you see.  There are plenty of similarities between you and I, Harry Potter.  Same house, both half-bloods, no parents, raised ignorant of our true natures.  Both Parselmouths, even.  But it had nothing to do with you.”

There was silence, and Harry prepared to be attacked, but Tom just continued to aim that awful smile at him.  “Now, I think it’s time you understood the powers you’ve been messing with.  Let us match our powers together one last time...  You even have a bit of help, paltry though it is.”  

With one last derisive glance at the hat and phoenix, Riddle moved back a few steps, and then looked up at the statue.

“ _Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four._ ”

Harry spun to look at the likeness of Slytherin, and saw the statue’s mouth creep open.  There was something moving in the darkness behind it.

Instinct took over, and Harry dove toward the wall, pressing his back against it, still holding the hat in a death grip and trying not to jar the phoenix.  He slammed his eyes shut, but he could still hear the great snake making it’s way down.  The noise it made as it moved across the stone was even louder than Harry had thought, and he shuddered to think how loud it must be.

“ _Kill him._ ”

The phoenix launched off of Harry’s shoulder at that point, and where it had been now felt uncomfortably cool.  Harry let it go without protest, hoping that if nothing else the Basilisk would chase it instead of him.

The sound of a scuffle broke out, surprising Harry.  Was that tiny bird really holding it’s own against the thing that had left that huge skin?  A surprisingly loud hissing noise filled the chamber, and then something huge slammed into the wall next to Harry.

Harry’s eyes popped open before he even realized what he’d done.

The Basilisk was the same vivid green as the skin they’d seen in the passageway.  It was as thick as the trunk of a tree, and the powerful way it twisted and weaved through the many columns made Harry shudder.  He could get flattened by the tail of the thing, never mind what the head could do.

With a loud musical cry, the phoenix launched itself at the Basilisk, digging it’s talons into the beast’s eyes.  It shrieked again, this time the noise even more horrible and writhed.  Harry slammed the hat down on his head and ducked, narrowly avoiding getting flattened by it’s muscular tail.

“ _NO!_ ” Tom roared. “ _LEAVE THE BIRD! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU. YOU CAN STILL SMELL HIM. KILL HIM_!”

The now blind serpent twisted around, searching for Harry.  The boy scrambled to his feet and scrambled back, making his way closer to the statue.

‘Help me!’ He though desperately to the hat.  ‘What ever reason you’re here, do it now!’

There was no answer from the hat, but as Harry dodged sideways, avoiding being in the Basilisk direct line - even if it was blind, and Harry could see blood oozing from it’s eyes, it still had those wicked looking fangs.

Suddenly, something hard and heavy hit the top of Harry’s head, and he gave a little gasp of pain before ripping the Sorting Hat, which was writhing oddly, off his head.

Inside was some sort of long, wooden handle.  Harry grabbed it and pulled out some sort of staffed weapon, the end topped with a blade that twisted into a frighteningly sharp looking point.  The entire thing was decorated with about a dozen tiny emeralds and swirls of silver.  ‘A glaive’ some little part of him identified.

“ _KILL THE BOY!  LEAVE THE PHOENIX AND GO FOR HIM!  HE’S RIGHT BEHIND YOU!  SMELL HIM!_ ”

Harry dropped the hat next to Nott and brandished the weapon.  It felt awkward and surprisingly heavy in his hands, but was far more comforting than his former helplessness.

Working on Tom’s instructions, the Basilisk whirled around faster than Harry could follow and made a blind lunge for him.  And managed to dive sideways, still gripping the glaive tightly, falling into the roll he’d been taught in Quidditch for falling of his broom at high speeds.

He had just gotten to his feet again when the Basilisk turned and struck again.  This time Harry had no time to do anything but raise the weapon in both hands, putting his entire weight behind it.

The great serpent lunged straight onto the blade of the weapon, and it pierced through the top of it’s mouth, presumably into it’s brain.

It’s momentum was enough to drive it even further, and a hot pain erupted on Harry’s arm, just above his elbow.  The scream he tried to let out came out something closer to a gurgle, and vaguely Harry could hear Tom half bragging about his victory and half snarling over the death of his creature.

Harry let go of the glaive, which stayed stuck in the beast’s mouth for a moment before falling abruptly.  It’s formerly pristine blade was now covered in blood and things Harry really didn’t care to try and identify.  Harry could see the phoenix banking to fly towards him, but his vision began to gray, and soon he could see no farther than Nott.

Fury bubbled up in Harry’s chest and he stumbled forward.  He managed to get to the other boy before collapsing.  He ended up splayed on the moist ground, the wounded arm on front of him.  Part of the Basilisk’s fang hand embedded itself into his flesh, and was so deep it had stayed with him.

“You’re dead, Harry Potter.”  Tom told him, voice dripping with satisfaction.  “Do you see the phoenix?  It’s mourning for you already.”  In truth, Harry could not see it, so he didn’t bother to look.  Everything was going in and out of focus, and the colour seemed to be draining out the world.  Instead he looked up towards Tom, and then towards the diary.

If he was going to go...

Tom was still talking.  “So ends the famous Harry Potter.  All alone in the Chamber of Secrets.  Defeated, no thanks to your Mudblood mother.  You’ll be with her soon, Harry, don’t you fret.  You had nearly twelve years extra because of her.  But in the end, it was borrowed time, wasn’t it?  In the end, Lord Voldemort was victorious, as he should have been from the beginning.”

...he was going to take Tom with him.

Using the last of his strength, Harry pulled the fang from his arm, too weak to do anything but let out a gasp that was nothing but air, and slammed it down onto the diary.

Tom screamed.

Harry turned his head to watch, as well as he could with his limited vision.  His glasses were tilted and cracked, but it didn’t really matter.  The blurry shape of Tom Riddle twisted, still letting out that awful scream.  He started to collapse, doubling over.  

And then he was gone.

Finally, Harry closed his eyes, to weak to keep them open.  ‘Draco is going to be angry’.  He thought vaguely.  

He had just started to drift when he felt moisture hitting the wound.  More surprised that he could feel it than anything, Harry managed to crack open his eyes.

Dumbledore’s phoenix was crying onto his wound.  As he watched, the gash stitched together, until there was no sign that he’d been gouged.

He was still shaky, but Harry was able to pick himself up.  He’d heard about phoenix tears being used in healing potions.  That certainly explained it.

A groan came from beside him, and Nott opened his eyes slowly, before sitting up in one jerky motion.  “I- Potter!”  He glanced at Harry, eyes panicked.  “Tom... the diary!  It was controlling me. All the attacks, it wasn’t me, but, I mean.  And, Tom... he came out of it.  I-”  He spotted the Basilisk.  “How did...”

“It’s all right.”  Harry told him, not wanting to deal with the freak out, if he could help it.  “Tom and the snake are both dead.  Let’s see about getting back-”

But Nott wasn’t listening, even as Harry stood up and helped him to his feet.  “I’m going to be expelled.”  He croaked out.  “Oh, Merlin, they’re going to send me to Azkaban!”

Making comforting noises, Harry patted him on the back towards, grabbing the glaive and the hat and dragging Nott with him towards the passageway, where the phoenix was circling, waiting for them.

They walked down the corridor, this time not needing wand light, because the phoenix glowed with a soft light, like a campfire.  The trek seemed even longer, but soon they were greeted by the sound of shifting rock.

“Draco. Pansy.”  He called, happy to hear them but not having the energy for more.

“Harry!”  Light showed through a hole nearly big enough for the Second Years, and Pansy poked her head out.  “Nott, too!  Oh, thank Merlin.”  She ducked back out, and the final huge rock floated an inch and drifted closer to them, before dropping, clearing the way for them.

Harry went through first, and was immediately latched onto by Pansy and Draco, both who wrapped their arms around him, hugging him from both sides.  Harry thought he could feel the slight moisture of tears from Draco’s side, but didn’t say anything, instead twisting awkwardly to pat them as well he could.  Behind him, Nott stepped through the hole and stood there silently.

Finally, Draco let him go, tapping at the weapon.  “What in Merlin’s name is this.”

“A glaive.”  Harry responded.  “It came out of the Sorting Hat.”  He waved the article at them.  Both of his friends blinked at him.

Voice soft, Pansy asked, “Harry, did you happen to hit your head?”

A snort escaped Harry.  “I wish.  Then this entire situation might be just an awful dream.”  He glanced at Lockhart, who was idly playing with one of the smaller rocks.  “What’s with him?”

“Oh, hello.”  Lockhart chirped at him.  “Do you live here?  Funny home, really.”  He tossed the rock back and forth in his hands.

Confused, Harry glanced at Draco, who shrugged.  “When Pansy’s blast caught him, he was in the middle of ‘Obliviate’.  The magic must have backfired on him.  His memories are all gone, we’ve checked.  Pansy’s crush came in handy - she knew everything there was to ask.”  Pansy scowled at him for the reminder.

Ignoring him for a moment, Harry looked back towards the slide entrance.  “Given any thought to how we get back?  Nott should probably get to the Hospital Wing as soon as possible.”  He glanced back at the boy, who had his arms crossed in front of his chest and wasn’t looking at anyone, face very pale.

Draco shook his head, and started to answer, but a trill from the phoenix interrupted him.  It spread it’s tail feathers at him and looked back expectantly.  “What the hell is a phoenix doing here?”

“Saving me.”  Harry replied dryly.  “I think it wants us to grab it’s tail.”  The bird gave a cry that sounded like agreement.

A little gust a breath came from Pansy.  “Are we really supposed to grab the feathers of the of the most dignified creatures in the Wizarding World?”

Rather than answer, Harry simply grabbed onto Draco with one hand, and the tail with another.  They started to rise, and Draco caught Pansy, who grabbed at Lockhart, who panicked and grabbed Nott.  None of them seemed to bother the bird at all, and they rose up the slide, higher and higher.

The light had never looked so good to Harry.


	11. Debriefing

When they arrived in the lavatory, in a heap on the floor, clinging to one another in a rather undignified manner Harry rolled over onto his back with a groan as he released the phoenix.  He blinked up at the stark white ceiling of the bathroom which was invaded seconds later by the scowling face of Severus Snape.  

Harry didn’t even have the energy to be scared or embarrassed.  Instead he just offered up a crooked grin.  “H’lo, Professor.”

Snape opened his mouth to retort before he heaved out a sigh and pulled Harry up by the scruff of his collar.  Harry blinked owlishly at the older man before reaching up with one hand to right his glasses.  “Thanks.”

On the floor he could hear the quiet hiccuping sounds of Pansy’s laughter.  He glanced down at her to find her body shaking with effort to keep her laughter in.  Snape frowned down at her before he turned to look at Professor McGonagall who merely opened her hands upwards in a questioning look.  Behind her still was Dumbledore, smiling happily and stroking the crown of the phoenix’s head with his forefinger and middle finger.  Snape pressed his index finger against his temple and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I think we best get these students and Mr. Lockhart to Madame Pomfrey, don’t you think, Professor Snape?”

Snape nodded distractedly at Dumbledore’s words as he helped the other students up, his eyes raking over them for damage.  He whirled to finally assess Harry but stopped short at the sight of the boy who was standing against the sink holding fast to the glaive and wiping at muck on his robes with a frown.  “Mr. Potter, what on earth is that?”

Harry didn’t look up from his robes.  “I think it’s a bit of residue left over from the Basilisk’s fangs.  It’s never going to come out...”

Snape twitched.  “In your _hand_ , Mr. Potter.”  

Harry looked over at the staffed weapon and rose his shoulder in a shrug.  “Dunno.  It came out of the Sorting Hat.”

Snape’s brow quirked.  “The Sorting Hat?”

“Yeah!”  Harry whipped out the hat from his trouser pockets and flopped it about wildly a moment.  “See?  I was there and the Basilisk came and then there was the phoenix and it brought the Sorting Hat you see and then the Basilisk attacked me and so I ran, obviously, and the next thing I know-”  Harry gestured towards the weapon with a sort of ‘ta-da’ motion.  

“Fawkes brought you the Sorting Hat, Harry?”  Dumbledore’s question got a nod of reply.  “You must have said something very noble about Hogwarts, about wanting to defend it then...”  Dumbledore skirted around the others in the room and made his way over to Harry.  “May I?”  Harry handed over the weapon, which he realized he must have looked rather silly holding, as it was taller than he was.  Dumbledore took hold of it and bunched up a bit of his sleeves before wiping off the tar-like gunk from the blade of the glaive.  “Just as I suspected - look here, Severus.”

Snape bowed his head forward to where Dumbledore was pointing.  There was a signature carved into the metal. “Salazar Slytherin.  It can’t -- surely you aren’t --”

“It seems Mr. Potter has done his House proud in his hour of need.  He called for the weapon of Slytherin House.”

“The what of what?”

Dumbledore peered down his nose at Harry.  “My boy, you see... each of the founders were skilled in combat as well as magic and bestowed upon the students of Hogwarts weapons to those in great need.  There is the Sword of Godric Gryffindor, the Bow of Rowena Ravenclaw, the Warhammer of Helga Hufflepuff, and the Glaive of Salazar Slytherin  Each of these weapons were designed so that if Hogwarts was ever in peril those worthy could take up the means to defend the castle.”

Harry gawked at Dumbledore before turning to look at Draco and Pansy who looked equally as dumbfounded.  His friends traded looks before turning back to him and shrugging.  “That’s... a lot to take in, Professor.”

“Indeed.  I think we best get you to the Hospital Wing.  Now, Harry, I’m an older man than you, would you mind?”

Harry wordlessly took the weapon back in exchange for handing Dumbledore the Sorting Hat.  McGonagall nodded her head and turned on her heel to lead the others to the infirmary.  Lockhart was right behind her, babbling on and on about this and that.  Behind him was Snape, who took the position with a spiteful look at Dumbledore.  Following behind Snape was Nott, Draco, Pansy and then Harry, who was walking with a surprising pleasant expression considering a deadly war weapon was balanced calmly on his shoulder as he walked.  Behind him, Dumbledore followed, cooing to Fawkes with a brilliant smile.

The odd procession made it to the Hospital Wing, before they ran into anyone.  The Malfoys, the Parkinsons, and the Notts were all waiting in the room, every one of them looking frantic, but covering it with differing levels of success.

Narcissa was the first to spot them, and she threw away all pretense with a cry of, “Draco!”  She was on him faster than Harry though she was able to move, and started patting him down, looking for injuries.  Within the next few seconds, the rest of the parents grabbed their children.  Chaos erupted, as each family unit tried to measure the safety of their respective kid.  Harry watched it all with tired eyes, too wrung out to be anything but happy for each of his friends, and leaned against the wall.  He was joined by Professor Snape, who put a hand on his shoulder silently.  Harry smiled softly at him.

Eventually, the chaos died down to manageable levels.  Draco was nestled between his parents, trying to look stoic and simply looking pleased as his mother pet his hair and his father wrapped an arm around him.  Narcissa looked up at Harry, as though confused as to what he was doing all the way over there.  He glanced at Snape, who gave him a little push forward, and Harry ended up pressed against the Malfoy Matriarch’s other side, her hand settled where his neck met his shoulder.  The position made it awkward to keep holding onto the glaive, but it was very worth it.

A glance around the room showed Basil clinging onto Pansy as he crawled into her lap, tear tracks visible on his face.  Her mother wrapped her arms around both children, her own face pale and eyes red.  Mr. Parkinson had one hand grabbing his daughter’s hand, but the rest of him was taut, like he was waiting for some sort of crisis to break out that he could defend them from.

Farther in the back, Nott was settled against his Father’s side.  The man had an arm around him, but the younger barely seemed to notice him, eyes gazing straight ahead unseeingly.  Harry vaguely remembered hearing someone talk about the symptoms of shock once, but he’d never really understood how strange it was to watch until now.

“I hate to interrupt,”  Dumbledore finally spoke, “But I would be interested in hearing about how Lord Voldemort was able to enchant Mr. Nott when he is currently no where near the castle.”

The elder Nott gave a hiss as though scalded, and jerked his head down to look down at his son, who didn’t react.

Harry cleared his throat.  “It was the diary, sir.”  Lucius gave a tiny aborted jerk.  “It was controlling him somehow.”

Blue eyes regarded him thoughtfully.  “And how did you come to this conclusion, Mr. Potter?”  Dumbledore asked calmly, his voice curious rather than suspicious.

Shifting a bit, Harry shrugged as best he could against Narcissa’s grip.  “It told me.  I mean, it was draining him, somehow, and so it had a form.  Voldemort,” He ignored the hisses the names brought, just as Dumbledore had.  “used it when he was a student, and so it looked like him at 16.”

The adults were now staring at Harry incredulously, except for Dumbledore, who merely looked grim (and Lockhart, who wasn’t paying the least bit of attention).  “I see.”  He glanced back at Nott, before returning his gaze to Harry.  “And what happened to that diary.”

Twitching at the now forceful attention of the entire room, Harry shrugged again.  “Down in the Chamber, I guess.  I didn’t bring it back.  Voldemort,” another pause for reactions, “was already done.”

There was silence.  “Oh?”  Dumbeldore encouraged, when it became clear Harry wasn’t going to speak again.

“Well... You see, first I killed the Basilisk.”  The grip on his shoulders tightened suddenly, and Harry found himself pulled firmly against Narcissa’s side.  Behind him, he heard Mr. Parkinson snap out ‘Absurd!’.  “Well I did!”  His tone went defensive, but Harry let out a little sigh to calm himself.  “It had lunged at me, so I sort of... stuck out, the glaive.  It fell on it more than anything.  But when it did, one of it’s fangs got me here.”  He poked at the spot he’d been bitten.

Professor Snape’s face tightened, like he was in a lot of pain.  “You must be mistaken, Mr. Potter.  If you had been impaled by a Basilisk fang, you would be dead now.”

Withered hand coming up to pet his phoenix, Dumbledore interupted calmly.  “I believe we should let him finish, Severus.”

Waiting a moment to make sure he wouldn’t be interrupted _again_ , Harry continued.  “Well, I’m pretty sure I was, ‘cause I certainly felt like I was dying for a bit.  I managed to stumble to where Nott and the diary were.  The memory thing was going on about how I was finally defeated, like those awful villains in books or on the telly, and I was just thinking that if I was going to die, then I wanted him to come with me.  When the Basilisk had bit me, a bit of it’s fang broke off and was kind of stuck in me.  So I grabbed that and stabbed the book.  I figured if it was killing me, it might kill it too.”

Harry paused then, clearing his throat and rubbing absentmindedly at the spot he’d been stabbed.  “And it made this really horrible scream and then disappeared.  When your phoenix started crying on the place I’d been bit, and it healed up and I felt better.  And then Nott woke up, so we went to where Pansy and Draco were - there had been a cave in, and they were blocked off.  By then they’d cleared a hole, and then the phoenix flew us out and then you found us.”  He ended with another shrug.

“I think the boy is crazy.”  Lockhart mild offered from his spot in the back.  Harry glared at him, but Dumbledore only raised an eyebrow.

“Could you please explain about our dear professor?”  He asked pleasantly.

Pansy huffed.  “He tried to cast a memory charm, and he threw me down in the passageway.  I.. I don’t know what I did, actually.  I was just really mad and scared and threw my magic out.  He was in the middle of preforming the spell when he got hit, so I guess it messed with his memory.”

A chuckle escaped Dumbledore.  “Oh, Gilderoy, impaled by your own sword.”  

Picking his head up, Draco stared at the Headmaster.  “You knew?”  He asked, temper colouring his words.

Waving his hand calmly, Dumbledore shook his head.  “This knowledge was a recent acquisition, I assure you, Mr. Malfoy.”  He then turned to Harry.  “Now, my boy, I think it best if we have a few words together and leave these families to collect themselves.”

“Headmaster,” Narcissa said, her grip tightened on Harry’s arm when she reached for it.  “I think it best for Harry to get himself properly looked at by a medical professional, don’t you think?  And besides, I do think Lucius and I would like to be there with Harry when he speaks with you.  As Harry’s makeshift guardians, if that is quite alright with you.”

Dumbledore looked taken aback for a moment before nodding distractedly.  “Quite right.  Well, after all is said and done, my office is open to you.  The password is Grape Jelly.”

Harry watched as Dumbeldore retreated and finally let the exhaustion in his body sink in.  He nearly ended up on the floor before Narcissa’s strong arms guided him into the nearest bed.  He had barely set his head on the pillow before Madame Pomfrey appeared, barking orders and shooing people away.  Harry cracked a smile and tried not to laugh as she brushed an annoyed Snape away with a smack to the chest before prodding at him with her wand.

“Mr. Potter, always a handful.  What now, a defunct potion?”

Harry chuckled and let his eyes drift shut.  “Or something.”

~*~

Harry watched as the gargoyle sprang from it’s place and the door sprouted from nothing.  Draco and Pansy were in the Great Hall, no doubt spreading wild rumors.  He knocked lightly on Dumbledore’s door before entering with Narcissa and Lucius behind him.  Dumbledore was standing behind his desk, peering inside of a large crystal case.  The light streamed through the back end of the case sending sunlight  in cascading beams over the room thanks to the polished metal in the case.  A brilliant sword encrusted with a few rubies, each the size of an egg, was seated beside the glaive, beside which was a shining white metal bow with sapphires and gilded with silver and platinum, lastly beside that was a strong looking iron warhammer, the black metal almost sinister, the claw of the hammer was crusted with yellow diamonds that looked sharp enough to rend flesh.  When Dumbledore finally turned from the case it vanished like smoke.

“Welcome, welcome.  Sit!”

Harry eased himself into a seat but was flanked on either side by Lucius and Narcissa.  Dumbledore stood behind his desk and Harry noticed the ruined diary sitting upon it.  He knew better than to ask questions.  

“I wished to talk to you about what happened over the summer.”  Naricissa’s voice was calm and she carded her fingers through Harry’s hair when he stiffened.  “About your supposed protection of Harry.  As you noted from the several furious letters I sent you after we retrieved Harry, he was not being well cared for.”

Dumbledore heaved out a breath and lowered himself into his chair.  “You must understand, Narcissa...”  He brushed his hair from his face and adjusted his spectacles.  “When I placed Harry in the care -”  He glanced over at Lucius’ nasally snort.  “-of his aunt and uncle I was forced to envelope the home in strong protective wards.  This wards will hold until Harry is seventeen and in order to be maintained Harry must remain under the Dursley roof for at least a month.”

Harry’s mouth opened to protest.  He was safer at the Manor than he had been at the Dursleys!

“Harry, I know you think you are safe.  You must understand that there are people with great ill intent out to harm you while you are defenseless.  Hiding you amongst Muggles is your greatest safety.  These people already know you are with the Malfoys, you no doubt met some of them at Christmas.”

Harry harrumphed and flopped back in his seat and crossed his arms firmly.  Finally he looked back at Dumbledore.  “So you’re saying that I need to be beaten within an inch of my life and sanity, risk nearly going blind thanks to having hot, boiling water thrown at me-”  He paused, feeling dreadful at the gasp Narcissa made.  He had forgotten to tell her about the incident with his Aunt Marge when he was nine.  “-and starved until I’m barely bones for a month for the good of the Wizarding World. Well then, Professor.  I’m sorry to say this, but you’ll have to cram it.”

Lucius hid his laugh in a barely disguised bark of a cough in his fist and he looked away to the bookshelves until his amused smile finally dropped from his face.

“A week.”  Narcissa bargained.  “A week and there is to be magic put in place to ensure he is not hit and he is fed properly.”

“Now, Mrs. Malfoy surely--”

“A week!  Or I swear on the Black family fortune that I will take him with me the second he sets foot on Platform Nine and Three Quarters.”

Dumbledore leveled a stare at Narcissa before he finally gave a relenting nod.  “Very well.  A week.  But you are to Apparate in from a safe distance and you are to Apparate away from a safe distance and you will not be allowed to use magic within the home.”

Narcissa nodded once and offered Dumbledore her hand.  He rose and took it.  They shook and Narcissa patted Harry on the shoulder.  “Now then, let’s get you some supper.  You have exams to study for.”

“Exams were canceled for the children due to emotional shock, Mrs. Malfoy.”

Narcissa turned to look over her shoulder at Dumbledore before she squeezed Harry’s arms.  “Well then, let’s get you fed so you can cause a well-intended riot.”

With that the three of them left, Harry mixed between pleasure and anxiety.  On one hand, he’d only being returning to the Dursleys for one week, and he’d be protected.  On the other, he had thought he’d never be returning at all.  Harry let out a great gust of a sigh and bit down his disappointment.  Really, it could have been much worse.  
Lucius and Narcissa escorted him down to the Great Hall for dinner.  Right before they opened the doors, the man turned Harry around.  The look in his eyes was uncharacteristically ashamed.  He opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was died in his throat.  Instead he just patted Harry on the shoulder once.

There was an apology in there, somewhere.  Draco often had a hard time getting out an ‘I’m sorry’ as well.  Harry wondered if such a thing was genetic.  Instead of insisting on it, like he might if Draco was being particularly stubborn, Harry simply smiled at the man, trying to convey that he got it, and didn’t hold it against the man.

And in truth, he really didn’t.  Not much, anyway.  Maybe giving him the diary hadn’t been smart, but he didn’t think Lucius knew what it could do, and he certainly hadn’t thought that Nott would steal it and set off the chain of events.

He hoped, anyway.

Twisting on his heel, Harry made his way into the Hall.  Inside, he quickly spotted Draco and Pansy, who were surrounded by a gaggle of students who were enthralled with the tale they were telling.  On the other side of the room, a group of Gryffindors were surrounding Hermione-

Wait, Hermione?

The girl looked in perfect health as she received a hug from Neville, then Ron.  After that, her attention was fixated across the hall, where Millicent was raising her glass in silent toast to her.  The Gryffindor was grinning when she spotted Harry, and waved merrily at him, looking overwhelmed by the attention.

Waving back, Harry made his way to his own table, taking a spot between Draco and Pansy.  The two immediately began proclaiming that ‘The hero of the hour has arrived!’, though Draco did spare a moment to wave at his parents as they made their way to the guest spots at the professor’s table.

While Draco and Pansy made a fuss over their adventure, making sure to milk it for every bit of respect they could, Harry gazed up at Professor Snape, who was watching him carefully, as though looking for some hidden injury he had been valiantly hiding.  Instead, Harry grinned at him, making the smile as wide and dopey as he could.  The professor rolled his eyes at him, but Harry thought he saw the corners of his mouth twitch.

The remaining days of term passed in a blur, and all too soon Harry found himself standing awkwardly in King’s Cross, looking for his relations.  Finally, Uncle Vernon wandered up to him, face red with ill-temper.  He stopped in his tracks when he saw Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy flanking him, and Draco pressed to his side, glaring with all the vitriol the finally thirteen year old could produce.

Narcissa knelt down beside him, but her eyes remained firmly on Vernon.  “Now, Harry.  You know it’ll only be a week.  Less if you send up a note that you’re in trouble.  Certain... _protections_ have been put into place to make sure that trouble won’t be coming from any one in that house.”  Her gaze narrowed dangerously, and Uncle Vernon went a startling puce colour, before going pale.  

“Come on now, Boy.”  Vernon told him, gesturing that he should follow.  Apparently he didn’t want to get any closer to the Malfoy family if he could help it.

At first, Harry went to follow, but an old hurt bubbled up in him, and the backing of the Malfoys helped him to finally voice it.  “I have a name, you know.”

Blinking, Vernon stared at him like he had no idea what he was talking about.  “We don’t have all day.”  He barked.

A stubborn fury drove Harry on, and he glared.  “I will not answer to that.  I have a name.”

The red shade of his uncle’s face was back.  “Fine.   _Harry_ , move it.  Your aunt and cousin are waiting in the car.”

Knowing that was the best he was going to get for a while, Harry grinned at the Malfoys and started following the lumbering man.  “Bye.”  His voice was early a whisper, his earlier courage draining out of him at the sight of them getting farther away.

“See you soon, Harry.”  Draco told him, his voice confident.

That was enough to bolster him, and Harry managed a smile before he slipped away into the Muggle world.


End file.
